Betrayal, Betrothal and Bothersome Brothers
by Caseyrocksmore
Summary: Sequel to "Fatherhood". Woody has asked Jordan to marry him, James is back, Garret is Michael's father, someone has a grudge against Adriana, the baby is sick and Kate is pregnant. ...What could go wrong? Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**Betrayal, Betrothal and Bothersome Brothers**

_I can't believe how many reviews I got for "_Fatherhood_"! You guys are the best, _best _readers a girl could ever ask for. Seriously. It's because of you that I actually got past my writer's block and finished, and am now starting this whole new story— continuing, of course, just after where "_Fatherhood_" left off._

_In case you have all forgotten what the ring looks like, here's a picture of it: __traversjewellery(dot)com/Pictures/Prepared/Diamond-engagement-ring-hal.jpg_

_Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I no own "Crossing Jordan" and all that jazz, nor do I own the "Boston General Hospital", if there is indeed a real one. If there isn't, then I made it up. :) If I owned CJ, do you really think it would have been cancelled?_

**Chapter One: Unbelievable**

She just stared at it. It was something she'd found she'd been doing on and off for the last four weeks— since he'd asked. Since he'd said something so preposterous, so presumptuous... she couldn't believe how she'd answered, either. It was so unlike her! It wasn't like her at all. But she _had_ grown up. She's hadn't run away. And grown-ups got engaged and then married, eventually. And, like any engaged couple, they were finally moving in together. He was moving into her apartment.

It was a big step, she knew, but she was the one who had said yes. Damn that word! Yes. How could she have said that?

She stared at it again. It was beautiful, she had to admit. It was perfect. It was just what it represented that scared her. Married? Her? It was unfathomable. Unconceivable. Unbelievable.

Yet it was happening.

_"Jordan Cavanaugh, would you do me the honour—" He got down on one knee and pulled a small, black velvet box out of his pocket. "Of being my wife?"_

_She stared at him blankly. The look on Garret's face made her wish she had a camera with her— he looked so shocked, yet pleased, too. They all did. Kate, especially, was beaming. Nigel was giving Woody thumbs-up. Bug was busy with Maddie, but Lily was grinning like a fool with the rest of them. She had to answer._

_"Yes," she said simply, and he flung his arms around her neck in the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving. Maybe she did just need someone to hold her a little tighter. And if it had to be anybody... it had to be Woody._

She smiled and looked up from her ring, instead looking at the photo she had on her bedside table. It was of her and Woody, three days after he had proposed. He had gotten the bandage off his gunshot wound, and after he had seen it, he wasn't as upset anymore. The hole really wasn't that big after it healed up; just big enough that he could put his pinkie-finger through it. And that was exactly what he was doing in the photo.

They were sitting in the park, and he was goofing off, putting his finger through the hole in his ear and wiggling it. It was rather high, just under the Helix, and off to the left, closer to the side that was not attached to his head. It was just perfect for fooling around with, according to her Farm Boy. He was actually kind of happy about it, mostly because he'd gotten some 'cool new nicknames' since he had been shot; "Earless Wonder" being Nigel's, which evolved into "Wonder Boy" by most of the Morgue staff; "Earwig" was the BPD preferred nickname, and Matt Seely had adapted that to "Wigs", though he was the only one who called him that.

Jordan chuckled. Seely was a piece of work, that's for sure. But for some reason, which Jordan couldn't put her finger on, they still let the guy hand around as if he was part of the family. Which he wasn't; at least, not yet. Though he seemed to be working on that.

The phone rang and Jordan got up to answer it. It was her last night alone in her apartment— Woody would be bringing over his stuff the next afternoon. He had the nightshift that night, or else he would've been over, like almost every night. But Jordan was enjoying the peace and quiet for her last night.

She answered the phone with the usual, "Cavanaugh," and automatically heard Nigel's frantic voice telling her to get to the hospital, _now_. Something was very, very wrong.

She told him to hang on and grabbed her coat, running out the door as fast as she could and jumping on the elevator, pounding the ground level button as if that could make it go faster. She needed to be there for them.

_**An hour earlier...**_

Bug opened his eyes and frowned. Something was wrong; he could feel it. He sat up and looked over at Lily, who was curled up in the fetal position, as usual, and sleeping peacefully. He looked over her to the clock. It was two o'clock. That was what was wrong! Maddie hadn't started crying yet.

Even though she was six months old, she still woke up like clockwork at two in the morning. It drove Lily crazy, but he usually told her to go back to sleep and got up to handle it himself. He was so used to waking up at two that his body had woken him up even though Maddie wasn't crying.

But why wasn't she?

Bug pulled himself out of bed and to the door, listening. She wasn't crying, which was very, very odd. He walked across the hall and into Madeleine's bedroom, excepting her to be quietly sleeping. She was neither.

The six-month-old was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she wheezed noisily. Bug, panicking, scooped her up and held her upright. Her heart was pounding and she was hyperventilating. Bug didn't know what to do.

"LILY!" he yelled, and tucked the baby safely into the crook of his arm. She continued to wheeze, which is never a good sign. Lily stumbled into her daughter's bedroom sleepily.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something wrong with Madeleine," Bug explained, and Lily suddenly felt wide awake. She took Maddie out of Bug's arms and held her tightly, suddenly very scared. Bug, meanwhile, was already in the living room, grabbing a phone to call 911.

"She's hyperventilating, barely breathing..." he explained the situation three times to the lady on the phone. "Six months, one week..."

"_The ambulance will be there soon, just stay calm._" Bug didn't feel calm. He was panicking and his hands were sweating. He was forgetting something. Jeffrey.

He hung up on the 911 lady and quickly dialled Jeffrey's number. It rang for what seemed like forever, but he didn't answer. Bug left a hurried message on the machine just as the paramedics began to pound on the door, telling him that there was something wrong with Maddie and to meet them at the hospital when he could. Then he went to let the paramedics in.

They took Maddie from a terrified, nearly hysterical Lily, and put her on oxygen, which seemed to help. Then they rushed her to the Boston General.

"It's going to be okay," comforted Bug, putting his arms around Lily, who was shaking involuntarily, "It's going to be okay." She didn't seem to hear him. Her baby was having trouble breathing. But it didn't matter what he was saying, because he didn't believe his own words.


	2. Chapter 2

_All of my information on pregnancy is from parenting(dot)com, and all my medical information is from Wikipedia. If any of its wrong, feel free to let me know, and I'll see what I can do._

_Streptococcal pharyngitis can actually be very, very bad for babies. I got it at seven and a half months, and it actually caused my tonsils to develop wrong. I had to get them out recently because they had these holes in them which kept causing tonsillitis. It's not something easily got over in younger children._

**Chapter Two: Baby Talk**

"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner— I slept through the phone, and didn't get your message until ten minutes ago! What happened? Is she okay?" Jeffrey said quickly, looking from his ex-fiancée to her boyfriend and back again.

"We don't know what happened," said Lily, who was acting much calmer than she felt now that her daughter was in the hands of professionals. "Bug woke up and went to check on her, and she was hyperventilating, and having trouble breathing." Jeffrey looked shocked.

"What's wrong with her? How long have you been waiting? Have they been running tests all this time?" he started bombarding them with questions they couldn't answer, which just made him frustrated. They had only been at the hospital forty minutes.

Nigel burst into the waiting room, Kate following behind sleepily. "How is she?" he asked breathlessly, throwing his arms around his best friend. "Is she okay?"

"We don't know yet," sobbed Lily; Nigel let go of Bug to give her a hug, too. Kate stood awkwardly beside Jeffrey, unsure of what to do.

Jordan got there a few minutes later, looking mortified. "How is she?"

"WE DON'T KNOW!" yelled Bug, the first words he'd spoken since they'd gotten there. The group was completely silent, and stared at him. Bug _never _raised his voice.

"Oh," said Jordan quietly, and then felt the urge to hug the little man. And she did just that.

"Jordan, you're suffocating me," he mumbled, turning pink.

"Sorry," said Jordan, blushing also. Outbursts like that were not like her. Outbursts of anger, sure, but spontaneous hugging? She let go of him and took a step back, biting her lower lip.

"Party for Madeleine Lebowski?" Lily jumped and practically spun on her heals toward the doctor.

"I'm her mother! Is she alright? What's wrong with her?" She wrung her hands worriedly.

"She's stable," said the doctor, and everyone sighed with relief. "As far as we can tell, she had an asthma attack caused by an upper respiratory tract infection." Lily and Jeffrey looked at each other.

"How'd she get that?" asked Lily at the same time that Jeffrey asked, "What is that?"

"It was probably sudden onset... happened in only a few hours," explained the doctor, "She was probably exposed to Streptococcal pharyngitis sometime within the last three days, and it just manifested itself this morning."

"Strepto— streptowhatell?" asked Jeffrey, confused.

"Strep throat," Bug stuck in, and Jeffrey nodded, understanding.

"It's good we caught this fast," said the doctor, "We've given her broad spectrum antibiotics for the infection, and she'll be on an oxygen tube temporarily until the mucus clears up."

"Can we see her?" asked Lily breathlessly.

"Her parents should be with her right now." Lily looked between Jeffrey and Bug, feeling sick herself.

"Which ones?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, do you mean her genetic father, or her adoptive father?"

The doctor groaned.

XXX

Bug watched the rise and fall of Maddie's little chest and felt his heart break again for her. She was his responsibility— for the first time in his life, someone depended on him for everything. And it was probably his fault she was sick. He must have given her something from one of the bodies he worked with; he must have done something wrong. It was all his fault.

Jeffrey watched Bug watching his daughter. He looked so concerned, almost as though Maddie was his own. Jeffrey knew the feeling. Madeleine was all he had, except his job, which would mean nothing to him if something were to happen to her. She was his everything since he had 'lost' his wife-to-be.

He looked down at her in the little hospital crib. She was breathing normally, now, which was a very good sign. They said the antibiotics would start working in an hour or two, and that if she was improving well enough, that Lily could take her home in a day or so. As long as she didn't get worse.

Lily watched the two of them. They were both fathering the same little girl, or so it seemed, and Lily wasn't too sure how she felt about that. Of course, Jeffrey had a right to be a part of Maddie's life, he was her father. And Bug was just amazing with her, taking her on as if she were his own. The two men watched the sleeping baby, and Lily felt at peace. They were both good with her, she realised. Jeffrey loved Maddie, and so did Bug. They both had things that her little girl needed. She thought it would all work out, if only because Maddie had so many people who cared about her. Garret had been right; it takes a village.

XXX

Kate put a hand of her stomach and sighed. She still hadn't told anyone— she, Jordan and Nigel were the only ones who knew about her pregnancy as of yet. At nine weeks, though, it was only a matter of time before someone at the morgue noticed. She was still vomiting at least once or twice daily, her breasts had gotten bigger (to the obvious delight of Nigel), and her stomach had gotten harder. She was more worried than ever, though, because around this time was when she tended to miscarry.

Dr. Fitzgerald, Nigel and she had had another appointment, and he had told them that the pregnancy still looked textbook, which was excellent for her. This did little to decrease her fears, because Nigel was absolutely sure he was going to be a dad, and she didn't want to let him down.

She picked up the remote and switched it to the 'Baby Channel'. Just in case, she wanted to be sure she knew everything she needed to, though she felt confident in her ability to be a mother. She didn't have much first-hand experience, but she had heard a lot from friends and family the last time she was pregnant and had blurted it out at eight weeks. She had been bombarded by so much advice she was surprised at how much of it she actually remembered.

Being one to brag about having a large bladder was a thing of the past, too. She found herself having frequent bathroom trips, and having random happy and/or sad moments for no reason. Hormones. She hated them!

She rolled over and switched off the TV. It was nearly six— she could go to work now and no one would notice she was early. Lately she'd been going to bed very early, sometimes even seven or eight, and waking up in the middle of the night. She needed to get back on a regular schedule, if she was going to have a little screaming infant to take after. She winced, remembering Madeleine's first day back. That girl sure had a set of lungs on her.

Kate got dressed in the usual attire and made herself a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. There was a knock on her door, and she sighed, not wishing to get up to answer it.

"It's open!" she called over her shoulder, and Nigel let himself in.

"Hey," he said quietly, and joined her on the couch. "I thought I would give you a ride to work this morning." He slung an arm loosely around her shoulder, and she put a piece of toast in his mouth.

"I don't need you to baby me, you know," said Kate, rolling her eyes and getting up to put her plate away. Nigel swallowed the toast she had given him and rolled his eyes back.

"I'm not babying you," he said almost nonchalantly. "Nothing is too good for my girls." Kate groaned and put her plate away, turning to face him.

"You don't know it's a girl. The doctor won't be able to tell for another month, at least." Nigel shrugged.

"I have a feeling."

"Well, it's wrong. A mother can tell these things. It's a boy."

"Is not."

"Is so!"

"Is not!" Kate put on her shoes and shook her head.

"You are being so childish," she complained, grabbing her helmet off the counter. "He is a boy, I'm telling you."

"She is my daughter, Kate, and she's going to be perfect." Kate laughed half-heartedly.

"Perfect? I doubt it. Even if he was a girl, which he isn't."

"_Is!_"

"Is not."

"Is." Kate put her hands on her him.

"Wanna bet?" Nigel eyed her suspiciously.

"How much?"

"Not money," said Kate deviously, "How about... whoever is right... gets to name him. Within reason."

"The other person can't hate it, but otherwise, if she's a girl, I get to name her, if she's a boy, you get to name him?" Kate nodded, smiling that devious smile of hers. "You're on!" They shook on it. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

_So far, one person bet girl. You know, I haven't actually decided on the gender... you might be able to persuade me if you vote in your reviews. Or this might just be a ploy to get more reviews. evil laugh No, seriously, vote, because it could still go either way at this point. :)_

_PS I don't know if they ever mentioned Nigel's mother's name, but if they did, I'm changing it. :)_

**Chapter Three: No Clue**

"Caleb?"

Nigel looked up at Kate, who was standing hands-on-hips beside his desk in the Bullroom. They were 'babysitting' the morgue together as it was Adriana's day off, Lily and Bug were at the hospital, Garret was in court and Jordan was doing a pickup a good forty-minute drive away and wouldn't be back for a while.

He pointed to himself. "Nigel." Kate rolled her eyes.

"No, I mean... how do you feel about Caleb?" She sat down on the corner of his desk and crossed her legs at the ankles.

"I don't know anyone named—"

"Stop being an idiot! You _know_ what I'm talking about," accused Kate, and Nigel grinned haplessly.

"Caleb is a little... common, isn't it?"

"I don't want his name to be _uncommon_."

"I just don't think he should have to share a name with six boys in his class, _if_ he does end up being a boy," Nigel pointed out, and Kate rolled her eyes again. "I am very lucky to have never met another 'Nigel'. I bet you've met other Katherines, haven't you?"

"There were seven in my kindergarten class. That's why I started going by Kate instead."

"Exactly!"

She crossed her arms, thinking. "What about Keegan, then?"

"_Keegan?_"

"What's wrong with Keegan?" she said, trying not to pout. And failing.

"Nothing." He bit his tongue, not wanting to tell her that the name reminded him of a spider he had caught for Bug a few years back when it was lurking in the corner of the locker room. They had named it Keegan and kept it around the morgue for about a fortnight, until it escaped and was crushed by AV Brian.

"Have _you_ been thinking about it?"

Nigel nodded quickly. He had. He wanted his daughter to have a very special name; one that said something about her, and meant something to him. He smirked at her.

"Erin," he said, "Erin Grace." Kate looked very surprised.

"And you don't think that's a common name?" she asked sceptically, and he shrugged.

"It's my mother's name."

"And?"

"I like it?" He closed the file on his desk and turned toward her properly. "What's wrong with Erin Grace? I think it's a beautiful name."

"It's very lovely, but you said you didn't want 'common'."

"Erin isn't that common a name," he said, "It is number eighty-two on the popular baby-names list. He flipped open his laptop and went to a baby-names website. "Caleb is number... five!"

"What about Keegan?"

"Number..." he scrolled down the list, "forty-eight."

"So you like Keegan better than Caleb?" Nigel nodded. "But Caleb is so much cuter..."

"Then he'll thank me when he's older." Kate rolled her eyes again. He moved his fingers out of the way as she pushed his laptop closed. "What?"

"You really think that Keegan Townsend is a good name?" She bit her lip. "What about Brandon Keegan Townsend? Keegan sounds better as a middle name."

"It's your choice, remember? If she's a boy, that is." He smiled. "Which she isn't." Emmy knocked on the glass, startling them both.

"Floater in the Charles," she said, and pushed her glassed higher on her pointed nose. "The FBI are involved for some reason, and are requesting Dr. Macy. What should I tell them?" Emmy looked to Kate for the answer. Kate looked at the clock above Adriana's desk.

"He should be done with the trial, now. Tell them he'll be there shortly. I'll call him." Emmy nodded and scurried away in an almost mouse-like manner. Nigel chuckled, and Kate left to call her boss.

XXX

Garret loosed his tie and gave Renee a small smiled. "We've got him," he said, "We had him ever since I showed the jury the bite marks. I think very few people a have tooth like _that_—"

"Michael's been asking to see you," Renee cut in, and Garret stopped. "He hasn't seen you in two weeks— he's been asking where you are. Eddie used to drop by more often... I guess he's just missing that." Garret sighed and pushed his hands deep into his pockets.

"I'll come by tonight and tuck him in or something. I'm still trying to get Red Sox tickets so we can go see a game together." Renee nodded curtly.

"I'm sure he'll like that."

Garret sighed, walking alongside Renee down the courthouse steps and onto the sidewalk. "It's hard to be a full-time dad again. Just when I thought I could sit back and wait for retirement, Michael bounces into my life. Not that I'm not happy, I am, it's just..."

"Hard?"

"Yeah." Renee put a comforting hand on his arm.

"Michael adores you, you know. So you must be doing something right."

"I haven't known him for two months!"

"And he already thinks of you as his dad. I don't think he's mentioned Eddie more than twice since we told him. Eddie, on the other hand..." Renee shook he head and held up her hands in defeat. Garret remembered that she didn't tell him how Eddie reacted to the news.

"How's Eddie taking it?"

"He's devastated. Jenny is thrilled, though. I mean, his wife." Garret nodded, his hands still in his pockets. "You know, I think it was him."

"You think what was him?"

"I think I couldn't get pregnant because of him. I mean, I thought it was me, but he and his wife haven't been able to conceive, and I had Michael with you, so it has to be a problem with him."

"That makes sense." Garret's pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open.

"Macy."

"_Garret, the FBI needs you to do a pickup at the Charles River. They requested you specifically. Is there something that I should know about?_" asked Kate. Garret bit his lip.

"Tell them I'll be right there," he said, and hung up, completely avoiding the question. If he told Kate, she would tell Jordan and neither he nor the FBI wanted... or needed _that_ drama.

"I've got to go," he told Renee, then opened his car's door. "You need a lift, or did you drive?"

"No, I drove. Go ahead."

"See you later," he mumbled, then left the parking lot across the street from the courthouse.

XXX

Garret approached the same brown-haired FED that had talked to him in his office about the Charles River drownings. "Agent White, I'm guessing this is another one?" Agent White nodded once, then looked toward the body that had been dragged up the back by the rescue team.

"Apparently he jumped from his apartment, which overlooks the river. An eye-witness a few floors below him saw him fall. You're going to prove this wasn't suicide."

Garret raised his eyebrows. "I am?"

"Yes." Agent White straightened his tie, and beckoned to the blonde-haired man, his partner, who quickly rushed over to the two men. "We know who killed him. We just have to prove it." Garret rolled his eyes, then glanced down at the body.

"I'll need to get him back to the morgue to prove anything," he concluded after looking over the guy, who was soaked to the skin and pale as a ghost but otherwise looked uninjured. "Give me a few hours." Agent White nodded.

"Call us when you find something."

"_If_ I find something," corrected Garret, but neither of the men seemed to hear him.

"Later," said Agent Hawes, the blonde one. The two left and got in their cars. Garret rolled his eyes at the departing men. Some people had to respect.

XXX

He smirked, watching the blue coroner's van pull out of the lot and start its journey back to the Boston Morgue. They had no clue it was him, nor how close he was to knowing what he needed to. They had no clue how close he was to finally getting justice. They had no clue that he was so close that he could almost taste the freedom that justice would give him, the accomplishment. They had no clue why all these people had to die.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hafta_ – _have to_", "_fank-ooh_ – _thank you_", "_baffoom_ –_ bathroom_", "_lemme _–_ let me_" and "_seecwet _– _secret_" in Michael-speak. In case that wasn't obvious._

_Hope you don't mind my detailed Michael-ness, but I'm starting to love this kid. :D_

_Score:  
2-Girl  
1-Boy_

**Chapter Four: Babysitting a Three-Year-Old**

Renee held the door open as Michael walked off the elevator, then let go of it and grabbed his hand. "Mommy," he whined. "I hafta pee." Renee rolled her eyes. He always had to go pee when he was in a new place.

"Fine." She smiled at Emmy as she passed her and made her way to the bathrooms. She pushed open the ladies' room door, and Michael stopped in his tracts, looking at her as if she were stupid.

"Mommy... that's the girls' baffoom!" He started jumping up and down. Renee groaned. The last few times he had been to a public place had been with Eddie, who had explained to him the difference between boys' bathrooms and girl ones. She hadn't yet had the unpleasantly of dealing with a three-year-old who wanted to use the men's room.

Renee groaned, then spotted Bug down the hallway. "Bug, could you do me a favour?" she asked him politely, and he looked from her to the bouncing little boy.

"He has to go to the bathroom?"

Renee nodded, slightly embarrassed. "And he refuses to use the ladies', but I don't want him to be all by himself."

"I'm not a baby! I can go by myself!" said Michael angrily, trying to pull away from his mother, who kept a firm grip on his hand so he wouldn't run away. Bug smiled, understanding.

"I got it," he said, and offered his hand to Michael. Michael looked up at his mother, nervous.

"Please go with Mr. Bug," said Renee, and Michael reluctantly took Bug's hand and followed him into the men's room.

"Need any help?" asked Bug, and Michael shook his head quickly.

"No!" said Michael, who quickly ran into one of the stalls. Bug waited by the sinks for him to finish. He flushed and walked back out of the stall, smiling triumphantly. Bug chuckled.

Michael walked up to the sinks, which had to be a foot taller than him, and looked around. He frowned in annoyance. "No stool," he said, sounding distressed. Bug sighed and put his hands under Michael's armpits, holding him up so he could wash his hands. Which he demanded to do by himself.

"You are so much like you mother," Bug concluded, putting him down at getting him a paper towel. Michael dried his hands all by himself and threw out the paper towel.

"Fank-ooh, Mister Bug," he chimed as if he had been told to, then raced out of the bathroom. "Mommy!" He flung his arms around his mother's legs as soon as he saw her.

Bug followed him out of the bathroom quietly and went to the break room, where he found Adriana.

Bug smiled at Adriana and sat down across the break room table from her. Lily was at home with Maddie, who was doing much better, so she was the only person around to talk to. Adriana sighed into her coffee, looking quite depressed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to be helpful. She sighed again, then put down her mug, careful not to let the hot liquid spill over the edge and burn her fingers.

"My psychotherapist told me that I'm homicidal and paranoid. But he's just out to get me because I threatened to kill him," she said quietly, and Bug's mouth fell open in surprise. Adriana looked up and grinned at him. "Gotcha!"

"Oh, very funny," he replied, getting up and pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Seriously, what's up?" Adriana shrugged.

"Have you ever had to deal with a premenstrual fifteen-year-old girl?" Bug shook his head. "Yeah, not fun."

"I didn't know you had a kid." Adriana laughed.

"Mahesh, if Sienna was my daughter, I'd have to have had her when I was fifteen years old! ...She's not my daughter. She's my little sister. Once my parents practically kicked Carlos out of the family they decided to have another kid. I just take care of her." Bug frowned.

"Where are your parents?"

"As far as I know, England. Or Italy. Or Spain. Wherever they feel like." She ran a hand through her hair. "They dropped off the map last summer. Sienna told me they just packed up and left. It's one of the reasons why we flew over." She picked up her coffee and sipped it. "How's the baby? I heard she was sick."

"Maddie's feeling better. Lily's at home with her, but the Doctor said that she'll be able to go back to her regular schedule in less than a week." Adriana smiled.

"That's good."

"Yeah." Bug mulled over what she had said. "Wait... Why did your parents kick Carlos out?" Carlos and Bug had been friends when they were younger. They were the same age when Bug lived beside them back in Liverpool.

She shrugged. "He's getting married in a few weeks. Chris lived over here, so he moved over here, too. Sienna and I are living with him right now, but we're looking for our own place and we're hoping to find one before the wedding."

"And your parents have been mad at him because...?"

"Chris is short for Christopher?"

"Oh." There was an awkward silence, then Bug licked his lips. "Carlos is gay? Really? I would never have guessed." Adriana shrugged again.

"No one ever seems to."

XXX

Garret looked up in surprise. "Renee!" he said happily, standing up and putting down his pen on the large stack of paperwork he had piled in front of him, "I thought today was your day off?"

"It is," she said, limping into the room. "But Michael wanted to see you, so I thought I'd drop by." Garret looked downward and chuckled. Michael was sitting on his mother's left foot with both his arms and his legs wrapped around her leg.

"Hey, Buddy." Michael let go of his mother and got up, then ran to his father.

"Daddy!" he squealed happily, throwing his arms around Garret's legs. "I made you picture in preschool!" Renee set down her bag and opened it, pulling out a sheet of paper. She offered it to Garret, who took it and smiled genuinely.

"Is that us?" asked Garret bending down to his son's level and pointing to the two stick figures drawn in peach crayon on the paper. Michael nodded.

"We're playin' baseball," he said seriously, pointing to the red circle about the same size are the stick figures heads that was in the sky in between the two figures. "I'm winnin'."

"Yeah, you are," said Garret, ruffling Michael's hair. Renee looked at her watch almost impatiently. "What's wrong, Renee?"

"I have a doctor's appointment in twenty minutes," she said, "Are you going to come with Mommy for her check-up?" Michael shook his head and grabbed Garret's hand.

"Can't I stay with Daddy?" he asked, sticking out his lower lip in an adorable little pout. Renee rolled her eyes.

"Daddy is very busy, and—"

"I can watch him if you need me to."

"He can't run around a morgue!"

"All I'm doing is paperwork. I can set him up with some crayons and paper and he'll be fine." Michael jumped up and down excitedly.

"Pretty please, Mommy? We'll be good boys, right Daddy?" He looked at his father, using that same dark-eyed stare that Renee used when she wanted something down by 'yesterday'.

"Right."

Renee sighed, then looked at her watch. "Fine, but I'll be back in an hour and a half and I expect you to behave. Right, Michael Anthony?" Michael nodded, smiling broadly. Renee bent down and kissed him on the forehead, waved to Garret then rushed out the door. Garret got up from his half-crouching position and smiled down at Michael.

"Want to help me look for something to colour with?" Michael nodded, and offered Garret his hand.

Garret took it and the pair went off in search of crayons in the morgue. "Kate, do you know where I could find something to colour with?" asked Garret when he poked his head into Trace Evidence. Luckily there hadn't been a pickup lately and there wasn't a body in Trace.

"Uh... colour with?" asked Kate, looking thoroughly confused. Michael bounded into the room and began to search the place for crayons. Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Kate, meet Michael Walcott," said Garret, motioning toward the little boy, "Renee asked me to watch him for a little while." Kate clicked her tongue disapprovingly, but thought about it anyway.

"Doesn't Bug have coloured pencils so he can colour-code all his notes?"

"He colour-codes his notes?" asked Garret incredulously. "That little man is very strange..."

"No crayons!" said Michael, running up to his father. "Where else can we look, D—" Garret instinctively put a hand over Michael's mouth to stop him saying 'Daddy' in front of Kate. Kate raised an eyebrow again, and Garret shrugged apologetically.

He let Michael out of Trace and back to his office. "Michael, could you please not call me 'Daddy' when Miss Kate is around?" asked Garret politely, and Michael screwed up his face in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because they don't know I'm your Daddy yet and I want to be the one to tell them."

"Like a seecwet?"

"Yeah, like a secret."

"What about Mister Bug? Does he know the seecwet?" Garret didn't know when Michael had met 'Mr. Bug', but shook his head 'no' anyway. Michael looked disappointed.

"I like Mister Bug. He's nice. He lemme wash my hands all by myself." Garret shook his head in wonder. What had this kid been up to?

"That's nice. Why don't we got ask Mister Bug if we can borrow his pencil crayons?" Michael happily nodded and trotted toward the door with Garret close behind.

They closed the office door behind them and continued their search for crayons. The cell phone on Garret's desk began to ring. It went to voicemail because no one was around to hear it.

"_Hey Dad, it's Abby. I finally have reception— my cell phone keeps giving out on me. _

"_I get this long weekend off so I thought I'd come visit you and catch up. I've been driving for about three hours now, so I'll probably be there in, like, forty-five minutes. Call me back if you won't be at the morgue._"

The machine went, _beep! _and stopped recording. They were going to have a surprise visitor...


	5. Chapter 5

_To Jessi and Belle: Of course Michael is based after Josh! Who doesn't love that kid?_

**Chapter Five: Had To Find Out Some Time**

Abby pulled into a parking space across the street from the building where he father worked and turned off the engine. She pulled her phone out of the cup holder and flipped it open, but her father hadn't called her back since she had left a message on his phone forty minutes before. Sighing, she opened her car door and got out, crossed the street and entered the building.

She stepped off the elevator onto the ninth floor and walked directly to her father's office, without bothering to ask Emmy if he was busy or not. Either he was ignoring her, which she doubted, or he was too busy doing paperwork or whatever to notice the little red light on his phone that blinked every other second and told him he had messages.

She opened the door and walked right in, smiling big. "Hey!" she said happily, closing the door behind her. "What's up?" Garret looked up from his paperwork.

"Abby!" he said, sounding surprised, and thoroughly confused. "What are you doing h—"

"We don't get March break, so we get this week off instead... I left you a message, but you didn't reply," she interrupted, then noticed a pair of big, chocolate eyes staring up at her from the floor. "Uh..."

"Hi!" said Michael perkily, "I'm Michael." Garret frowned. Well, they had to meet sometime. "Do you know the seecwet?" Abby looked from her father to the antsy three-year-old who was jumping up and down in front of her.

"Uh, should I?" Michael stopped bouncing.

"Daddy, does she know the seecwet?" Abby's eyes widened and Garret bit his lip.

"Now she does." Michael, realising he'd called Garret 'Daddy', slapped both hands over his mouth.

"Oops," he said through his fingers. Garret chuckled.

"What does he mean, 'Daddy'?" asked Abby almost angrily, though she already saw the resemblance in the little boy. "Better yet, if you're his 'Daddy', who's his mother?"

"Mommy is my mother," said Michael as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, then trotted off toward Garret's couch where he had some paper and pencil crayons laid out.

"Uh, Abby, Michael is..." said Garret, "He's sort of your little brother." Abby rolled her eyes.

"Sort of?"

"Well, half-brother." Abby licked her lips, then dropped her backpack on the floor and walked over to him, arms crossed across her chest. "Don't look at me like that! I only found out a few weeks ago."

"So, I repeat. Who is his mother?"

"Mommy."

"Michael, please be quiet and let the grown-ups talk." Michael fell silent and grabbed the green pencil crayon, completely absorbed in his drawing. "Renee Walcott." Abby groaned.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you hated her!"

"And I was also sleeping with her, obviously." Abby made a face.

"W-T-M-I, Dad." She looked toward her newfound 'brother' curiously. "How old is he?"

"Three."

"And you're just finding out him now?"

"I knew she had a kid, but she said it— he— was her husband's." Abby's jaw dropped.

"Dad!"

"Ex-husband's! I wasn't—"

"And she didn't notice for one _second _that he looks exactly like you?"

"Well, no, but I noticed when I met him, so I got a paternity test just to be sure..."

"And it came back positive." Garret nodded, smiling weakly.

"He's a really great kid, once you get to know him..."

"Fank-ooh," mumbled Michael as if on-cue.

"And well-trained, apparently."

"_Abby_."

"Michael, whatcha drawing?" asked Abby, walking around Garret's desk and bending down beside him. Michael looked up at her and smiled, then grabbed his picture and held it up for her to see.

"See, that's me," he said, pointing to a stick-figure, "and that's Daddy, and that's Mommy. We're watchin' a baseball game." He pointed to a diamond off to the side of the paper that had little stick figures running around it. "And that's a baseball." He pointed to a large red circle. "Daddy's gonna catch it for me."

"And what's that?" She sat down on the floor crossed-legged and pointed to a strange looking stick-figure that looked like it was crawling around Michael's feet. Michael grinned.

"A dog." Abby laughed.

"Why is there a dog at a baseball game?" Michael shrugged.

"I like dogs." Garret smiled. "Mommy says when I'm bigger we can get one. Plus, Daddy can fix him when he's broken 'cause he's a doggie-doctor." Abby raised her eyebrows and glanced toward her father.

"Since when?"

"Since he's a little young to be learning about medical examiners." Abby nodded.

"I'm not little!" said Michael, crossing his arms. Abby messed up his hair with one hand.

"No, but you are adorable."

"Fank-ooh."

XXX

"We have to tell them sometime! It's not like they're not going to figure it out eventually. Bug's already suspicious, and Jordan's going to figure it out and tell everyone if we don't tell them soon!" Kate laughed, and leaned back in her chair across the breakroom table from him.

"Jordan already knows, silly. Who do you think I got to run the test? Technically you ran it, because she gave it to you—jeez, she's known longer than you have, and she hasn't told anyone." Nigel blinked.

"You told her before you told me?"

"Oh, of course." She rolled her eyes. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Uh, because I'm the father and she's not?" This earned him another eye roll. "Kate, be serious. It's not like Bug isn't going to notice that you've been puking your guts out every morning. The 'flu' excuse isn't going to last much longer. And once you start showing—"

"I know, I know, but I just don't want anyone to be disappointed or try to console me if it... if it doesn't happen the way I want it to."

Nigel got up from his chair and walked around the table, then wrapped his arms around her. "Nothing bad is going to happen," he said confidently, "This kid has Townsend genes—and we're lucky in the health department." Kate smiled, then pushed him off her.

"Yeah, well, he's still not a sure thing yet."

"She."

"He!"

"She."

"Nigel!" She punched him in the arm, and he grinned, flopping back into his seat.

"I think we should tell our friends. At least let me tell Bug, he's my best friend and I think he deserves to know." Kate groaned. "You told Jordan! What's the difference?"

"The difference is that I told her because I needed advice on how to handle the situation, and you just want to tell him so he knows, or to brag about it or something," she grumbled, grabbing his coffee. He took it out of her hands.

"No coffee, remember? Bad for the baby." Kate rolled her eyes, then looked at her watch.

"Urgh, just when I need it, too. We've got to be there in half an hour..." Nigel raised his eyebrows.

"'_We_' have got to be where, exactly?"

"Did I forget to tell you?"

"Apparently."

"Sorry, my fault. With everything that's been going on, I figured you knew... we have to be a Lily's for the bridesmaids meeting." Nigel stared at her blankly. "To plan the wedding?"

"Jordan's? Already?"

"It's been over a month... she wants to make sure everything is perfect."

"Are we talking about the same Jordan? Jordan Cavanaugh? With a 'C'? Skinny brunette with almost golden-y coloured—"

"Nigel, shut up."

"But I'm not a bridesmaid!" he complained in a whiny voice, then took a drink of his coffee while Kate watching him jealously. Kate licked her lips and Nigel pushed the coffee further away from her.

"She was considering you as her Maid of Honour."

"What?!"

"Man of Honour, whatever. But she's decided Lily's better suited. You're going to be a groomsman, but she wants you there anyway because your one of her best friends or something."

"Will Garret be there?"

"Does Garret know his way around a dress store?"

"I suppose not."

"Exactly. Come on, let's go, our shift ended three whole minutes ago." Nigel groaned but quickly downed the rest of his coffee and tossed out the cup, following her out of the room.

"I'm still not a bridesmaid." Kate chuckled.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry this took so long... but it's a long chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it. :) And thank you to my awesome reviewers! Thirty-one reviews in five chapters? That's got to be a record or something!! :)_

**Chapter Six: Well-Laid Plans**

James grinned and sipped his coffee confidently, smiling at the police officer seated across from him. The officer cleared his throat loudly, then took out a notebook.

"You, uh..." mumbled Officer David Davis uneasily, looking from the paper to James then quickly back again, "You said you had... information. About... a... ah... murder?" Officer Davis, obviously a rookie, loosened his tie a little. James smiled in what he hoped was a convincing manner.

"That's what I said," he said happily, "It was a while ago, but I've done some digging, Officer Davis." He lowered his voice. "And I found something very, very interesting." Officer Davis nodded jerkily.

"Please, call me Dave. I, uh... are you sure we should do this here?" He looked around the little diner, in which there were few other costumers. James nodded slowly, and Dave cleared his throat again. "Okay. I'm sure this'll be, uh, fine. Who was the decedent at the, um, murder?"

"Her name was Emily. I think her last name was Cavanaugh? She was married to an officer by that name." Dave's eyes widened, but he quickly wrote it down.

"Em-Emily C-C-Cavanaugh?" he stuttered, "That was a, uh, a while ago, right?"

"Twenty-six years," said James, nodding, "I was only a teenager at the time... damn shame." He smiled lazily. "But you know all about that, even if it was before your time, right?"

"There's always been some, eh, rumours going around BPD about Max Cavanaugh and his wife's... mysterious... death." He loosened his tie a little more. "All I know is that she was shot... he said he was on duty, but no one knew where he actually was at the time of the..."

"Max didn't kill her," he said, and winked, "But you knew that."

"They never proved it, and they let him go to take care of his d-daughter."

"Yes... Jordan. You know her?"

"Not personally... I usually just guard the crime scenes, I'm not a detective yet— we haven't been formally introduced."

"Too bad. She's a nice one." He sipped his coffee, then grinned. "So, you want to know what I know?" The young officer nodded eagerly. "The 'phantom print' belonged to her brother."

"Emily Cavanaugh was an only child."

"Not Emily's brother— Jordan's. Well, half-brother."

"And he killed Mrs. Cavanaugh?" James chuckled.

"No. The print had nothing to do with the murder. It was a dirty cop operation." Dave looked like he was shocked. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Wasn't your father in the BPD at the time?" Dave got up and bolted for the door of the diner, but there was a _zzzzzt!_ sound and he fell to the black-and-white linoleum, hard.

"The bigger they are," mumbled James, smiling. He tucked the taser back into his jacket pocket and looked around the diner at the shocked waitress and other costumers. He pulled a badge out of his other pocket and flashed it to them with a vague smile. "Under-cover FBI agent," he explained, looking down at the unconscious rookie. "Bad cop operation. I'm expecting you'll all keep this quiet?" The two old ladies, the young waitress and the four decked-out-in-leather bikers all nodded quickly. "Thanks."

XXX

"Ivory is lovely," said Lily, holding up the napkin sample, "But Off-White is nice too..."

"What about the Cosmic Latte?" asked Nigel, picking up another sample, "Or the Seashell?" Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was enjoying this meeting with the girls. Just him, Kate, Lily, Jordan and a sleeping Madeleine. Jordan's friend Kim would be coming over in a few hours, but until then— it was just him and his best girlfriends. (Completely heterosexual, his ass.)

"Jordan, what do you think?" asked Kate, looking over at her friend, who was being suspiciously quiet. "It's ultimately your decision."

Jordan looked at the napkins, and made a face. "I really don't care all that much about napkins." Lily gaped at her.

"It's your wedding!" Jordan shrugged.

"I just... never really thought about it." The room went silent. "What?"

"Never thought out it?" questioned Nigel, "I thought all thirteen-year-old girls envisioned their perfect wedding... as sort of a right-of-passage ritual to womanhood or something?" Lily nodded.

"I had my wedding planned by the time I was fifteen! I barely had anything to work out when I was going to get married. All I had left to do was guests and food." Kate smiled weakly.

"I had my first wedding planned inside a week." Jordan raised her eyebrows.

"First?"

"Don't ask." Nigel chuckled.

"Am I the only one who never thought about it?" The group nodded simultaneously. "Yeah, well, it must be something you do with your mom, so I missed out." Kate shrugged.

"I locked myself in my bedroom for two weeks when I was twelve to plan the perfect wedding, and my mom was out of the country at the time."

"So I just missed the boat completely, huh?"

"Probably, but you can make up for it by having the best wedding ever," said Lily, smiling and grabbing another bridal magazine. "What kind of dress do you think you want?"

"Something... simple. Less is more." Lily began to flip pages.

"Lacy, lacy, beading, beading, beading, elaborate, lacy, lacy and beading..." She looked up. "Simple isn't really this season, so you might have to do some digging to find something less elaborate than these." She showed Jordan a floor-length ivory dress with intricate lace on the bodice and beading around the waist. Jordan shuddered.

"No one would be able to force me into anything looking remotely like _that_." She shook her head. "If that's what's 'in' this season, I might have to hire someone to _make_ my dress." Nigel beamed at her.

"I could do it! I did a bit of designing back in the day, and who knows what you like better than your best friend of ten years?"

"I guess you would be best suited to—" She was cut off by a _bring!_ from the timer Lily had put on the table to remind her when to give Madeleine the antibiotics her doctor had given them. Kate and Lily both stood.

"I got it," Kate said offhandedly, tucking in her chair, "I'm not much help with this planning tuff anyway." She turned and left the kitchen and walked off towards Maddie's room, leaving a puzzled Lily behind.

"Uh..." said Lily, sitting down again, "That was nice of her."

"Practice," murmured Nigel, picking up the magazine that Lily had discarded.

"What?" asked Lily, confused, "Wait... are you two, like, planning something?" She looked at him with an almost devious smile. Nigel blushed, and looked like a fish out of water for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finding his voice again.

"I... dunno," he said lamely, flipping open the magazine, "Maybe eventually, I mean biological clock and all..." Lily was still looking at him like she knew something he didn't. "What?!"

"You two are totally planning something."

"Planning what?" questioned Kate, walking into the room with Maddie on her hip, who was blinking sleepily. She took her seat next to Nigel and bounced Maddie on her knee.

Lily looked between the two. "You've got that look."

"What look?" asked Kate, looking toward Nigel for explanation.

"That 'I'm trying to get pregnant' look." Kate nearly dropped Maddie in surprised, but managed to stop herself from letting go of her and quickly regain her bearings.

"I'm not—!"

"It's obvious." Lily leaned back and crossed her arms, looking smug. "You two are so trying to get pregnant." Kate looked at Nigel, who opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no good way out of this situation.

"We don't need to try," Kate said finally, "We... uh..." She looked at Nigel. "We're already pregnant."

Lily's mouth fell open and she just stared at them for a moment. After the news set in, her eyes lit up and she grinned from ear to ear. "Really?" Nigel nodded. "OhmyGod!" She stood and walked around the table, then put her arms around Nigel's neck. "Congratulations!" Nigel coughed, and Lily let go, then hugged Kate, who handed Maddie to her after she let go.

"How long have you known? How far along are you? Do you know gender yet?" Lily started bombarding them with questions, most of which they just glossed over.

"Does Bug know?" Nigel shook his head. Lily turned to Jordan. "But you did." She glared at her as if challenging her to disagree or tell her why she hadn't told her first. She shrugged.

"Don't look at me, man, it's not like it's my fault."

"No," Lily agreed, then looked at Nigel, arms crossed. "It's yours." Nigel smiled weakly.

"Heh heh..." He ran his hand through his hair. "Okay. Fine."

XXX

"Garret, I—" Renee stopped half in, half out of the door and bit her lip. Abby and Michael were sitting on the floor with pencil crayons splayed around them, each with a picture in front of them. "Oh, Abigail." Abby looked up. "Hi."

"Hi."

"What, err, are you doing here?" she faltered, then looked at her son, who happily stood up and walked over to her.

"Week off," said replied nonchalantly, "Thought I'd come visit my Dad, and my new baby brother that I knew nothing about until today." She stood up and put her hands on her hips in an almost critical way.

"I see." Renee bent down and picked Michael up. He giggled happily and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Well..." She faltered. "Uh..."

"He's adorable. I just wish you guys would have told me." She crossed her arms.

"I completely forgot, Abby, I'm sorry," said Garret again, for the fiftieth time. "I would have..."

"'Eventually'"?

"Well, yeah." Abby rolled her eyes.

"I better get Michael home," said Renee, and Michael put on his best pout.

"But Mmmmoooooommmmmmmmmmeeeee," he whined, "Can't I please stay with Abby for more longer? Pleeeeeeeeease?" Renee gave him 'the look'. The look that made Garret want to cringe, and made anyone else do what she says. Michael glared back.

"I want to stay with Abby longer," he said stubbornly.

"We have to go home."

"I don' wanna go home."

"Too bad." Renee gave a little wave to Garret and carried a squirming Michael out of the office. Abby snickered.

"He's too cute." Garret smiled.

"Mm."

"You're lucky he's that cute. If he wasn't, I might just be mad at you." He rolled his eyes. "I'm serious! Next time, though, I would like to be warned ahead of time if you get another accidental lovechild."

"Abigail!"

"Well, he was an accident, wasn't he?"

"That doesn't mean you have to point that out. Especially not to him."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know."

"Really, Abby. He doesn't need to know that. Not now, not ever."

"He'll figure it out eventually by himself, even if nobody tells him."

"Maybe, maybe not. You can't know these things, Abby. And he wasn't _exactly_ an accident... according to Renee, he was a miracle. She thought she couldn't have kids and then Michael happened." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just don't say anything to him, alright."

Abby frowned, but nodded anyway. "Alright."

"He just doesn't need to be hearing that. Accident or not, he's my son—"

"And you'll love him no matter what. I know, Dad." She paused. "Was I an accident?"

"No, Maggie and I planned on you. We actually planned on more than one, but that didn't happen."

Abby sat down on his couch and looked contemplative. "Why didn't it?"

"After what happened when you were born..." He shrugged. "We tried after a few years, but we just sort of... gave up."

"What happened when I was born?" Garret looked at her, silent, in a sort of 'oops' moment. "Dad? What happened?"

"You were too little," he said slowly, "And we didn't want to lose you, too."

"'Too'?"

"You..." He sighed. He hadn't told Abby she had had a twin brother for a reason, and this was it. It was painful to talk about the son he had lost on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. And if he ever had to tell her, Maggie was supposed to be there. "Uh..."

"Did I have a sibling?" She looked at him, wide-eyed. This wasn't something you told your twenty-four-year-old daughter; especially not right after she finds out she has a three-year-old brother.

Garret, unsure of how to tell her, nodded slowly. She bit her lip.

"Older than me?"

"By seven minutes."

"I had a twin sister?" she asked in amazement, shaking her head slightly, "And you're telling me this now?"

"Actually, you had a twin brother."

"Brother, sister, what does it matter if he died at birth? What matters is that you didn't tell me! Why didn't Mom tell me? Why am I just hearing about this now? Were you ever planning on me knowing, or is it just the fact that I asked?"

"Abby..." This was not going as well as he hoped it would. She sighed.

"Does everyone think I'm that delicate that I can't handle knowing my brother died? Jeez, Dad, I'm not a baby."

"No," he agreed, "You're not. But you are _my_ baby and I was just... we were trying to protect you for as long as we could."

Abby got up and put her arms around Garret's neck. "Dad, I'm not a little girl anymore," she said, "I don't need protecting."


	7. Chapter 7

_"Evander" was the name given to Jordan's fish in one of the fanfictions I have read over the months; I'm not sure if he was actually ever given a name in the show, but I'm sticking with Evander because I think it's cute. :)_

_This is a slightly pointless chapter, just me collecting my ideas and writing scenes I've had in my head a while... and relating them more to what's happening in the main plots— the engagement, the pregnancy, the James plot and Garret and the FBI's investigation of the "River Murders", which I count as one. The other sub-plots still go on in the background, but now I'm rambling so... I'll stop._

**Chapter Seven: Again and Again**

Garret dialled the number Special Agent White had given him and waited as it rang. He was standing over the body of the young man who had apparently 'jumped' into the river. The one that the Feds wanted him to prove wasn't suicide. And it defidently wasn't.

"White."

"It wasn't suicide," said Garret, getting right to the point. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone line. He was quiet for a moment, as if thinking.

"Just like I thought," said Special Agent White almost happily after a long moment, "How can you prove it?"

Garret looked down at the body, who's chest had ten tiny circular bruises on it that had only appeared within the last few hours. "Post-mortem bruising suggests he was pushed out of the window."

"Thank you, Doctor." Special Agent White paused. "Do you know anyone I could send to check out the guy's apartment?"

"You haven't done that yet?" Garret said with surprise. He thought it was routine to search a possible suicide and/or murder victim's residence.

"They wouldn't let me until it was ruled homicide." He sighed. "Could you go see if there was any sign on struggle in his apartment? Maybe the left some incriminating evidence."

"I suppose I could go take a look around..."

"Thanks! Bye." The line went dead and Garret groaned, flipping his phone shut. Shaking his head, he grabbed his jacket and opened his phone again, this time holding down two, 'Home'.

"Abby, hi," he grumbled, pushing the door open and holding the phone to his ear, "I'm going to be late for dinner."

"Agdah," said Maddie, looking up at him and reaching up her little arms toward him. "Gah!" He picked her up and gave her the antibiotic, then walked to the kitchen and put her in her highchair.

"Shh, Madeleine," Jeffrey grumbled, "Your mother will be back home in a few minutes." He handed her a bottle and sat down in a dining room chair, looking uncomfortable being in his ex and her boyfriend's apartment.

"Mama?" questioned Maddie, putting the bottle down in front of her. Jeffrey sighed.

"Mama will be home soon."

Jeffrey heard laughter and the key turning in the lock. Bug and Lily entered the apartment, laughing and talking quietly.

"Thank you, Jeffrey," said Lily patting him on the shoulder and picking up a happily giggling Maddie. "You're a lifesaver."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled, looking at his watch. He looked annoyed.

"Were we long than we said we'd be?" questioned Bug, and Jeffrey looked at him in surprise.

"Oh." He paused. "No, err, I was supposed to be somewhere when you called— I just remembered I should have called to cancel. I'll see you later." He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Bug glanced at his girlfriend questioningly.

"Should I be concerned about him?" Lily chuckled.

"He has a date," he concluded. "It's quite obvious he's trying to keep it from me. Well, that, and Jennifer Lowe, Jesse's mom, told Megan who told Chase who told me that Jeffrey's seeing some lawyer named Linda Clark." Bug nodded slowly.

"Makes sense."

"Dada," said Maddie, holding out her arms to him and pulling away from Lily. Lily passed her daughter over, then picked up the empty bottle and went into the kitchen to rinse it out.

"Hey Maddie-Paddy," Bug said in a baby-voice, and she giggled happily grabbing his nose. She started coughing, and he put her on his hip and carried her into the living room, putting her down in the playpen for a minute.

"Lily, where is Maddie's Ventolin?" Maddie continued to cough, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"It's on her dresser!" Lily called from the kitchen, and Bug ran and got the ventilator, and gently put the mask over Maddie's mouth and nose. She continued to cough, but it slowed and became less violent after a minute. Lily came into the living room and crouched down beside Bug and Maddie, looking at the little girl curiously.

"Isn't she feeling better yet?"

"Sometimes it takes longer for smaller children to fight off infections," explained Bug, looking down at Maddie, who wasn't coughing anymore and was instead trying to pull the mask off her face.

"Ughah!" she whined, and her gently removed it, then checked her pulse and put his ear to her chest to check her breathing.

"Sounds normal," he said quietly, then tickled his daughter's stomach so she giggled. "She'll be fine."

Woody sprinkled the FishFlakes into the bowl and watched curiously as Evander the Siamese fighting fish quickly swam to the top and began to eat as if he hadn't done so in weeks.

"Uh, Jordan?" Woody called over his shoulder, "Have you been feeding Evander?" He heard Jordan gasp and run out of the bathroom in a robe with her hair up in a towel, looking flustered, guilty and caught off-guard.

"Oops."

"Jordan!"

"I'm sorry, I forgot!" He sighed, looking down at the fish.

"How long this time?"

"A few days, maybe? I don't know. Come on, man, you know I can't even keep a plant alive." Woody rolled his eyes. Jordan sighed and out her hands up. "It's a miracle Evander is still with us!"

"Then why don't you feed him?"

"I forget to?" She pulled the towel off her hair and ran her hands through it, shaking it out a little and letting it bounce up into its loose, natural curls.

"I swear I'm going to set an alarm or something one of these days," Woody grumbled, taking off his coat and hanging it up, then picking up the towel Jordan had discarded on the floor.

"No you're not," said Jordan, putting her hands on her hips.

"Fine," Woody said, still grumbling, and went to hand up the towel in the bathroom. "So what's up with Kate, anyway?" Jordan's eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms, looking toward the bathroom door. When she didn't reply right away, Woody came back out, a curious expression on his face. "Is it really that bad?"

"What makes you think it's anything?"

"She's been sick lately, and Bug was telling me how she's been acting different— not to mention she's been seeing Nigel." He grinned. "Who knows with that guy? But you guys are friends, so I figured she'd tell you if something was up..."

"You'll have to ask her yourself," said Jordan, choosing her words carefully so as not to let slip about Kate's pregnancy, "Because her... condition... is... sensitive. If she wants to tell you, she will. If not... you'll find out eventually anyway." Woody, stilling curious, plopped down on the couch.

"Her 'condition'? Sounds serious." He swallowed. "Is she... sick?"

"No, nothing like that..."

"But you can't tell me?"

"I suppose could tell you, but it wouldn't be very... appropriate."

"Ooh, big words," said Woody and began kissing along her jaw bone and nuzzling her neck, "Me likey." Jordan giggled uncharacteristically and nudged him away, swatting at him playfully.

"Not now, I have to get to work."

"Not even a little?" He took her earlobe between his teeth.

"Nope." She pulled away and he reluctantly let go, giving her the all-powerful Hoyt puppy dog eyes. "Seriously, I need to be at the morgue in ten minutes, and I'm not even dressed yet." She got up and trotted off toward the bedroom.

"Have I told you how much I hate the morgue?" Woody called over his shoulder, putting his hand down between the couch cushions looking for the TV remote control.

"Not lately."

"Well, I do," he said, peeking under the couch and then sitting on the floor. Jordan came out of the bedroom, hands on her hips, and giving him a funny look.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the..." He saw the remote control then, sitting on top of the television. "Remote." He got up off his hands and knees and grabbed it, flopping onto the couch and turning on cartoons. Jordan rolled her eyes and grabbed her keys off the counter.

"And they call me forgetful," she huffed on her way out the door. She heard the distinct sound of Woody's laugh as she closed the door.

James smiled slightly, then flipped the page of his magazine, "Sports Illustrated", March issue. Dave opened his eyes blearily and looked around him. Boarded-up windows, shattered lamps and dusty furniture surrounded him, as well as the distant sound of constant running water. He pulled at the cuffs that bound his hand behind the chair he was sitting in, but he was deffidently stuck. James looked up at the sound of the clinking.

"You're awake!" he said happily, folding the corner of his page and putting the magazine down on a dusty table beside him.

"You tasered me!" accused Dave, and James smirked.

"Yes, I did," he replied calmly, wiping his palms on the thighs on his jeans and standing up. "I had to, and I apologise. I hope you can understand." Dave glared at him.

"Let me go." James sighed and put his hands in his back pockets.

"I can't do that, Davey," said James almost sadly, looking downcast. "But you know that." Dave pulled at his restraints desperately, grunting with the effort. "You'll need this—" He held up a tiny, silver key on a matching keychain loop. "—To get out of those."

Dave sighed. "I'm not getting out of here alive, am I?"

"That depends," he whispered, twirling the keychain loop around his index finger lazily.

"On what?" he nearly spat at his captor, glaring into his eyes with all the venom he could muster.

"On what you can tell me." He paused. "What do you know about my mother?"


	8. Chapter 8

_I apologise in advance, Belle. :( Sorry. I know how you wanted to keep him around a little longer... but I had to do it in order to advance the plot. And thank you to my reviewers! You guys rock!! And thanks for letting me know that the fish's name is Evander, named by Nigel. I'll keep that in mind when I write him into the story later, and I changed it in Chapter Seven._

**Chapter Eight: Dead End**

Garret turned the key in the lock and entered the victim's apartment, closing the door behind him. He dropped the keys on the counter and pulled on his latex gloves, ready to investigate. So far the place looked fine; clean and neat and organised. There were a few white plates drying on a rack over the sink, a cushion discarded on the floor by the sofa, and trail of crumbs from breakfast on the table, but those things were to be expected. Garret was sure that if someone were searching his home, they'd find many more things wrong with it than this.

He picked up his kit and wandered into the bathroom, looking for the window that the victim had jumped, or been pushed, out of. The bathroom was pristine; shining like it had just been cleaned. The guy who lived here must have been a neat-freak.

Garret found the bedroom next and smiled with success. The room was a little small; the king-sized bed took up most of the room. There was a window on the other side of the room, the curtains rumpled and hanging down on one side father than the other. There was one bedside table, and the lamp was knocked over sideways and hanging from the table, held in place only by the power cord still plugged into the wall. The light bulb was broken; the covers on the bed were messed up, and... the window was closed.

Even if he had jumped, which Garret had proved to be incorrect in post-examination anyway, the window would have been open. It was the one thing that flat out screamed murder, though the rest of the room showed obvious signs of struggle, too.

Garret, an expert at this sort of thing after doing it for longer than Abby had been alive, stepped lightly over to the window and took out his fingerprint dust and brush, but lifted nothing but smudged partials. The killer had probably wiped down the latch and window still. Still, Nigel might be able to reconstruct the partials using that fancy computer program of his, so he collected them.

He tape-lifted the entire carpet and bed, and found an assortment of different fibres and hairs; long brown hairs, long blonde hairs, long black hairs, short brown hairs, curly blonde hairs, red cotton fibres, grey wool fibres... the list goes on. He put them in an evidence bag, but if this guy had that many people in his bedroom... Garret shook his head. It would only help them to nail a suspect once they had one, not help them find one, unfortunately. Although the FBI already had a suspect, whose name had yet to be told to Garret (though he suspected that the suspect was James Cavanaugh), because apparently they didn't trust him with such 'sensitive' information. Idiots.

The lamp proved to be a different story. Though the bulb was broken, there wasn't any broken glass on the floor or the bed or the table. The killer must have cleaned that up, too. A neat-freak murdered the neat-freak. Huh. Interesting.

Garret tried the lamp and table for prints, but they were wiped down even better than the window had been. So there was only one place left to check, then. If the killer had cleaned up the glass, they would have put it... in the trash.

Garret went back to the kitchen and began opening the lower cabinets, until he found the one that housed the pull-out garbage. He pulled it out and flipped the lid open. On top was a folded-up paper towel, with a shard of glass poking out of one side. Careful not to cut himself, Garret took the paper towel out of the trash and unfolded it on the counter. There was the broken pieces of glass from the light bulb, all neatly rolled up in the paper towel like a present for Garret. Garret, the above mentioned expert, took out his dusting equipment and checked each piece of glass, no matter how small, for prints. And, lo and behold, on the largest piece of glass, was a clean, un-smudged, full print. Garret whistled. They had him.

XXX

"That's all I know!" sobbed Dave, gripping the edges of the floor-length window so hard his knuckles turned white, "I swear! I don't know who killed your m-mother!" He hiccupped pathetically, and James laughed.

"And my name is Ellen Dennis," grunted James, shoving harder. This guy was putting up more of a fight than he expected. That was the problem with the young these days; so intent on saving their lives. Dave gasped and dug his fingernails into the rotting wood frame.

"Please," he sobbed more quietly, "That's all I know. I'm sorry!" James grunted again, digging his elbow into the younger man's stomach. Dave cried out, but dug in his heels and nails harder, trying not to go out the window and into the utter blackness of the water below.

The ringing of a phone caught James off-guard and he stopped pushing long enough for Dave to get a better grip on the window, and pull his feet back into the room from where they had been out on the ledge, almost slipping off. James swore, and shoved backwards as hard as he could with one arm, while pulling a cell phone out of his pocket with his other hand. "Taylor," he grunted into it, trying to hold Dave out of the room. A smile crossed his features.

"Yes, of course I am enjoying my vacation, Denny," he said as casually as he could under the circumstances, leaning into Dave so as to free his other hand. "Boston, actually. Oh, just sight-seeing. I might be visiting family later." He elbowed Dave again, who grunted with the effort of keeping himself in the room.

"You're in Boston, too?" James raised his eyebrows sceptically. "What, right now?" He paused. "Yes, I know where that is." He smiled confidently. "Of course I'll be there! Are we partners or what?" There was another short silence, in which James pushed backwards with both elbows, trying to dislodge Dave from the window. Dave gripped the window tighter, unwilling to let go.

"See you." James hung up the phone and stepped away from the window, putting it down on the table near the window. Dave loosened his grip and took a step forward tentatively, then let go completely, looking shocked.

"You're letting m-me go?" asked Dave quietly to the back of James' head, as he was not facing him. James turned to face his prey and smiled with teeth. They glinted in the moonlight from the open window as he deftly pushed Dave back out the window with both hands before he could latch back on. Dave screamed, there was a splash, and it was over. James scooped up his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. With a smile, he exited the building. He had a date.

XXX

"There she is," said Aaron happily, pointing to the screen. The tiny heartbeat bleeped quietly.

"Ha! See, even Dr. Fitzgerald thinks she's a girl," argued Nigel, crossing his arms. Kate rolled her eyes, then looked to her doctor.

"I'm still sure he's a boy." Aaron shrugged.

"I'm just saying 'she', Mr. Townsend. I don't have an opinion yet. You won't be able to tell for another month or so." He paused, and grinned at Nigel. "I'm rooting for you, though."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Katharine, but I think it's a girl, too. Not as a doctor, mind you, but s a friend who has a feeling." He smiled ruefully. Kate groaned.

"Not you, too!" Aaron shrugged. "I _know_ he's a boy, but Nigel and Jordan and apparently Lily and now you all seem to think he's a girl. What is it with you people? He is not a girl!"

"Our daughter is going to be healthy, Kate, be happy about that, at least," said Nigel encouragingly.

"_Brandon_ is going to be healthy." Kate patted her belly and sat up, glaring at her boyfriend.

"_Erin Grace_ is going to be perfect."

"Erin is a very pretty name," said Aaron with a smile. The couple didn't even hear him over their own bickering, that Aaron had tuned out like white noise.

"Yeah, well, _he_ is going to look just like you!" yelled Kate, hands-on-hips.

"_Erin_ is going to be beautiful, just like her mother!" Nigel yelled back, sounding angry, though he wasn't. Just frustrated.

"_Brandon_ is going to be top of his class and have an IQ that rivals his father's!"

Aaron looked between them, still smiling slightly. "So no pressure on this kid, right?" he asked jokingly. They, again, didn't hear him.

"_She_ is going to be creative!"

"_He_ is going to be the best baseball player there is!" And so it went. They had hit another dead end.


	9. Chapter 9

_More of my Michael translations... "_Boss-in – Boston_". Sorry about the long time between updates. I've been sick... but I'm feeling better now. _

**Chapter Nine: Fallen**

The laugh rolled off his tongue naturally; his slightly crooked teeth, the result of not wearing his retainer as a teenager, shining very white. "'_Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former_'," he challenged. Ellen bit her lip in thought.

"Einstein?" James groaned and offered her the container of french-fries. She took one, grinning, and popped it into her mouth. "Thank you, Einstein!" She laughed regally, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder. "'_Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise._'"

"Oh, come on, you're going easy on me!" complained James, and Ellen rolled her eyes.

"You're stalling. You have no idea." She crossed her arms and smiled, almost taunting him. He went with his gut instinct and guessed.

"Benjamin Franklin?"

"You sure?" she asked daringly, looking him straight in the eyes. He looked unsure for a moment, but only for a moment, before he nodded confidently. Win or lose, he was not about to let her use her mind tricks on him to make him change is answer.

"I'm sure."

"Damn." She pushed the container of French-fries back to him. "I really must be losing my edge." He grabbed one and stuck it in his mouth happily. She clucked her tongue at him. "I hate you so much right now."

"I'll bet you do." He grabbed another fry, and looked at her as if to challenge her to do something about it. He slowly lifted it to his mouth, and bit it in half. She glared at him for a moment, then grabbed the entire container and jumped from her seat. "Hey!"

Ellen giggled and ran out of the diner, leaving James sitting all by himself, yelling something about splitting the bill. The waitress, a pretty young thing with long, wavy black hair, asked him with a Spanish accent if he wanted the check. He quickly paid, then ran after his partner. "Get back here, Agent Dennis, or so help me God, I'll throw you out a window!" She smiled at him. She was sitting in his car in the passenger's seat, waiting for him, the door open and the container in her hands.

"The window, the window, the second story window! If you don't give me back the fries I'll throw you out the window!" she sang loudly and off-tune. James slapped his hands over his ears in mock horror.

"My poor ears!" he screeched, then made a dive for the french-fries. He grabbed a handful, but she let him and he knew it. He walked around the car and flopped into the driver's seat, eating the fries. "So," he said after swallowing, looking at her as she closed her door. "Why are you really in Boston?"

XXX

"Daddy, stop throwing it so light!" complained Michael, catching the ball again and throwing it as hard as he possibly could (which wasn't really that hard) back to his father. Garret chuckled and tossed it back, a little harder. He was still little after all, and Garret didn't want to hurt him by accident. He was still new to the whole 'having a son' deal, after all; he'd only had Abby, who was quite happy to be playing with her dolls and _Barbie's Super Dream House_ at this age.

Michael caught it and sighed dramatically. "_Daaaaddddddddeeeeeeeee_," he whined pathetically, dropping the ball and crossing his arms in a way that could only be described as 'Renee-like', "I'm not a baby!"

"I didn't say that you were, Buddy," said Garret in his usual low grumble, stooping down to Michael's level and picking up the ball. "I just don't want to hurt you." Michael rolled his eyes, then grabbed the ball from Garret.

"Catch me if you can!" he squealed, running away down the field toward the jungle gym. Garret 'chased' after his son, running slowly on purpose. Michael beat him to the jungle gym and jumped on, climbing to the top and sitting down at the top of the slide, the baseball still clutched to his chest. Kids were really very limber, weren't they?

"I win again!" called Michael with a giggle, holding up the ball with triumph. He stood, holding the ball high above his head.

"Careful Buddy," said Garret warningly, but Michael was too busy celebrating the fact that he had 'beaten' his dad at their race.

He jumped up and down, yelling something that resembled, "I'm the bestest runner in the whole of Boss-in, and no one can beat me at racin' 'cause I'm the bestest!" His sneakers squeaked on the wet jungle gym; it had rained the night before. He jumped up and down continuously, ignoring his father's warnings. Kids never think before they act; it's a way of life. And that's why Garret saw the strangest expression of confusion and horror cross his son's young features as his feet slipped and he came crashing down to blue plastic slide.

XXX

"Do _you_ like the Cosmic Latte, or Seashell?" asked Jordan desperately, shoving the samples toward her slightly confused fiancé. He stared at her blankly.

"Huh?"

"Which to you like better? Cosmic Latte," she said slower, and pointed at one sample napkin, "Or Seashell?" She nudged the other sample closer to him. He raised his eyebrows, but looked down at the napkins anyway.

"Is there a difference?" Jordan groaned, flopping onto the couch.

"Yes!"

"Well, okay then. I like the..." He bit his lip. "Seashell?"

"Really? Because Nigel had me leaning more towards the Cosmic Latte," she replied, rolling onto her stomach and staring at the samples. "He said it was more..." She paused. "Peaceful." Woody shrugged.

"Then let's go with Cosmic Latte. It doesn't matter to me what colour the napkins are, Jordan. As long as you're the bride, our wedding will be perfect." He sat down on the edge of the couch and gently began to massage her tense shoulders. "Stop stressing. We haven't even picked a date yet." She sighed into the pillow, relaxing as his fingers did magic on her stressed muscles.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she murmured, and he grinned his Farm Boy grin.

"Yeah, me either."

XXx

Ellen's cheeks flushed in the usual blush, causing her freckles to look far more pronounced on her pale skin. "I told you. Visiting someone." James watched her closely. She was lying.

"Liar," he accused, closing the car door and doing up his seatbelt. "You don't know anyone here." Ellen did the same, then tucked her long-ish red hair behind her ears.

"My cousin," she started, then sighed. "He's, um, he called me..." She shook her head. "He thinks that there is someone fallowing him, and wanted me to come down and check it out..." James laughed and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Is that all?" he asked, "Jeez, I thought you were hiding something bigger than that. So you have a paranoid cousin! I bet I have a few wacky relatives." He smirked at the thought. "I thought you had a secret boyfriend or something." Ellen chuckled.

"Boyfriend? Yeah, right. If I looked like Jeri Ryan or Roxanne Dawson, maybe I could handle more than one guy in my life." James raised his eyebrows.

"'More than one'?"

"Yeah, I almost have you potty-trained, I don't need to start all over." He snorted.

"What d'you mean, 'potty-trained'?" he said in a pretend whiney voice, sounding pathetic and childlike. Ellen grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

"Fwogot – forgot_", "_dentwist – dentist_"._

**Chapter Ten: Farther Than Before**

It played out in an almost slow-motion-like state for both participants. Garret ran the six steps to the slide, trying to catch his falling son. Michael yelped and flailed his arms, trying to grab onto something to halt his descent. The ball rolled down the slide, with Michael tumbling after it.

When Michael reached the bottom of the slide Garret scooped him up and pushed his hair off his forehead. "Are you alright, Buddy?" he asked shakily, and Michael shook his head 'no', tears in his eyes.

"Mouth hurts," he sobbed, and Garret carried him to a bench and sat down, Michael on his lap.

"Let me see," said Garret, and Michael opened his mouth, taking short, rapid breaths. There was blood, but Garret couldn't see where it was coming from. He gently took his son's jaw in one hand and tilted his face toward the sun so he could see better. He had a split lip, his bottom front tooth looked loose, and his lower gums were bleeding. He must have hit his mouth on the way down.

"Ow," said Michael, closing his mouth. "Ice?" Garret nodded, taking Michael by the hand and leading him to the car. "We fwogot the ball!" Garret groaned.

"Get in your car seat, and I'll get the ball." Michael nodded, jumping into the car and doing up his seatbelt. Garret jogged back to the playground, grabbed the ball off the ground then walked back to the car. He waved the ball in front of Michael to prove he had gotten it, then closed the door and got into the front seat. "Come on, Buddy, let's go to Daddy's office and get you some ice for that lip, then call your Mom and tell her to make a dentist appointment." Michael made a face.

"Don't like the dentwist."

XXX

Jordan heard the door open softly, and smiled. "Back so soon? I thought you were going for a walk to the pier, not around the block!" The door closed, but Woody didn't reply. Jordan's smile widened, and she opened her eyes. "I can hear you sneaking around, Woody."

"I'm not Woody." She heard the jingle of keys hitting the counter. "But he did give me a key." Jordan's jaw dropped, and she flung herself out of the bedroom and into the living area.

"Cal?" Cal grinned and opened his arms.

"What, no hug for your boyfriend's brother?" Jordan laughed and went to him, giving him a tight hug.

"God, am I happy to see you! Where have you been? After all the stuff that happened with Albie, I expected you much sooner."

"I'm happy to see you, too," he said quietly, then pushed her away from him slightly and held her by the shoulders so they were about a foot apart. "On one condition." She frowned.

"And what's that?"

"You said 'yes', right?" Jordan laughed.

"Woody told you he proposed?"

"Told me he was going to." She nodded. "You didn't answer my question." Jordan glared at him.

"Of course I said yes!"

XXX

"You've been requested again, Dr. Macy," said Kate the moment Garret stepped off the elevator. "By the FBI. I told them today was your day off, but they insisted that I call you." She paused, then looked downward in the direction of a sniffling noise. "What's wrong with the kid?"

Michael whimpered pathetically. "He fell down the side at the park. Is there any ice around here?"Kate frowned.

"There's some in the crypt, I think." Garret nodded and took Michael by the hand, leading him in that direction. Kate matched his quick stride (Michael was practically jogging to keep up) and walked along side them. "What do you want me to tell the FBI?"

"That I can't do the pick-up, but I have complete trust that Dr. Switzer can handle it until I do the autopsy," garret grumbled, pushing open the doors.

"You just want me to pick up the body and bring it back here? What about on-site Trace?"

"There won't be any, it's a drowning victim. Anything we can get will the on the body itself, okay?" Garret opened the freezer, grabbed a plastic bag and filled it with a few ice cubes. "Here." He handed the bag of ice to Michael, who had been patiently waiting to the best of his ability (mostly by bouncing up and down on the spot).

"Fank-ooh," he said gratefully, and put the ice to his swollen lips. He was listening to the adult's conversation, intrigued.

"Alright," said Kate, "Do you want me to do the initial exam, too?" Garret nodded.

"Go ahead, just do me a favour and don't mention this case to anyway." Kate turned to go, then looked back.

"And by _anyone_, you mean...?"

"Don't tell Jordan."

XXX

"I'm from the ME's office," Kate announced, then crouched down beside the body, a young man in a BPD police uniform. "What've we got?"

The two agents looked at each other. "We requested Dr. Macy," said Special Agent White slowly, looking down his nose at Kate almost disapprovingly.

"Dr. Macy was unable to do the pick-up, but he told me to inform you that he has full confidence in me not to blab about this to Jordan. He will be doing the autopsy, though. Now, I repeat: What have we got?"

White sighed, but threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. They fished him out of the river. He was DOA, though the paramedics on scene tried to resuscitate him. We were told not to touch the body, so we don't have a positive ID yet." Kate checked rigor mortis, and nodded to the agents.

"Rigor implies he died less than eight hours ago." She checked him pockets, and found a black leather wallet. She flipped it open and read the name on the police badge and driver's licence. "The vic is David Davis, age twenty-two."

Agent White looked at his partner, who closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Kate raised her eyebrows, expected an explanation.

"Do you know him?" Kate asked the Agents, who both shook their heads.

"No, nothing like that. He's next on our list of possible victims, is all." Kate's eyebrows, which had settled down again, shot up for the second time.

"'_List of possible victims_'?"

"People we think might be targets of this guy."

"And how did this guy make the list?" The Agents looked at each other, but Agent White kept his mouth shut. His partner answered for him.

"His father might have been involved in the murder of Emily Cavanaugh."


	11. Chapter 11

_If Garret is a little out of character in this chapter, I apologise... I was trying to make him sound like a concerned father-figure without making him sound controlling and keeping him Garret-like, but I'm not quite sure if I succeeded... I'm sure Belle will tell me if he's off, won't you? _

**Chapter Eleven: Not Now**

Garret had determined that cause of death was drowning, like the 'first' victim, and all those before him. Like the others, he was found in the Charles' River, DOA. Unlike the others, however, there was one major difference: Officer Davis had several electrical burns on his chest, and bruising on his arms and upper torso; an obvious sign of struggle, and therefore murder.

He pulled off his gloves with a _snap!_ and headed to Trace Evidence to find Nigel. "Nigel!" he snapped, "Did you find a match to the print that I gave you from the light bulb?"

Nigel pulled a bright red lollipop out of his mouth and shook his head. "Uh, no, Dr. M., it didn't match anything in AFIS." Garret nodded, expecting that answer.

"Go take a coffee break," he said, and Nigel's eyebrows shot up.

"Why?"

"I want to do something, but I would prefer to do it myself." Nigel got up, and, shaking his head, left Trace with his shoulders hunched. What could Dr. Macy do better by himself than with a computer and Trace Evidence genius such as himself? He was fuming, but went to the break room anyway. He needed to finish his lollipop.

XXX

Garret walked over to the cupboards, bent down and opened the very last door. At the very back, behind all the other recent files and logged evidence, was a single manila envelope, which Garret grabbed and opened.

He headed to the scanner and pulled out the first sheet of paper in the envelope, a large-scale version of the phantom fingerprint. The only fingerprint found at Emily's murder scene. The print that caused so much confusion and heartache to Jordan. The fingerprint now labelled in black marker, '_James_'.

Garret quickly scanned the print, and brought it up on the computer screen. He pulled up the print from the crime scene, and manually began to mark points of commonality. There was more than enough. It was an absolute perfect match. James had cleaned up the glass in the 'first' victim's apartment. That only meant one thing: James_ was_ behind all of these deaths, just as he had suspected. Which meant he was alive. Which meant someone, eventually, had to tell Jordan that her brother was alive, and a murderer. He sure as Hell didn't want to be the one to do _that_. He could break her, hurt her again. She could run away again, in chase of a ghost that may never be fully tamed. James, Emily, all of it— it was a part of Jordan that had finally fallen below the surface, and didn't need to be brought up again. Not now, while she was happy, while she was starting her life with Woody. Not now.

Not now.

XXX

Kate stormed into the morgue, hands on hips, ready to yell at Garret. She had been thrown into another pick-up the moment she got back the first time, probably so she wouldn't have time to talk to him before he did the autopsy. He was soo going to get it. How could he have kept something like that from Jordan?!

"Garret!" he jumped, putting his pen down. He was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. More stuff for the FBI, no doubt. He frowned, but he knew what this was about. He motioned for her to take a seat across from him, and she did, closing the door to his office and flicking the lock closed as she entered.

"What did they tell you?"

"That these murders... they involve Jordan. That the most recent victim's father was somehow connected to her mother's murder. Garret, how could you keep this from Jordan?" rushed Kate, leaning forward and sounding distressed. Garret sighed.

"I know who killed them."

"Emily, or the vics?"

"The vics. It was her brother, James, who is supposed to be dead but obviously isn't. He's trying to find out who killed Emily, and nothing will stop him until he does. Now do you see why I can't tell Jordan? She's already got a lot on her plate. She doesn't need more stress because of her brother. I think she's finally gotten over her mother's murder, or at least forgotten about it for the time being. Don't you see that it's good right now?"

"But—!"

"I don't want to ruin what Jordan has been working so hard to get back. She's been unstable. I think for the first time in a long time, she really can be considered stable right now. I don't want to push her again. It's not fair to her."

Kate frowned. "Doesn't she deserve to know that her brother is alive? That they might have new leads on her mother's—"

"She deserves a break. A break from the murder, the guilt, the responsibility. She deserves to be the blushing bride to a blue-eyed detective, and not have something like this wreck the happiest time of her life." He sighed. "I'll tell her eventually, Kate, but not yet. I don't want to be the one to..."

"Break her?" He nodded.

"I don't want to break her again."

"She's not made of glass, you know," Kate grumbled, getting up from the chair, "She can handle anything life throws at her. She'll surprise you."

"Don't you think I _know_ that?!" Garret stood too, slamming his fists on his desk loudly, "I've known her for a very long time, Kate! Much longer than you! I know how strong and independent she is; I know she isn't going to fall apart if her brother resurfaces! But Emily's murder is a part— a very large part— of her and her life, and if that comes out again, when for the first time it's not a huge part, I just don't think..." He fell silent, dropped his arms to his sides. He had been waving them around in his rant, while Kate stood there, frozen to the spot with surprise from his outburst.

"You don't think what?" she whispered, a hand unconsciously on her stomach.

"I don't think _Woody_ could handle it if she ran away again," he said slowly, carefully, wringing his hands with worry, "And if she finds out that there is a lead... that's exactly what she'll do. She'd doing anything, _anything_, to find out who killed her mother. Bring peace to her restless soul. We can't let that happen. Not to Jordan, not to Woody. It isn't fair to _them_."

XXX

Ellen laughed, cuddling up closer to her FBI partner to share his warmth. They were curled up on the couch in his hotel room; a nice place. She wondered how he could afford it. It was in a gorgeous area; a brilliant view of Massachusetts out the window. The only downside was that it was right across from this one building; a good twelve-storey one that housed a few businesses. _The Boston Morgue_ was on the ninth floor, directly across from them. If you looked out the window carefully enough, you could see right into their windows. As if she didn't get enough of the dead bodies and stuff at work. But James liked it here, and it was a nice hotel. He didn't want to change rooms, which she found odd— he said he was already settled in to this one, and didn't want to switch half way through his vacation.

"What's so funny?" questioned James, stroking her hair.

"The Morgue is right across the street," she replied. He froze, like he seemed to whenever she mentioned it. "I was just thinking how hilarious that is." He nodded jerkily, obviously thinking hard. What was it with him and that morgue? "Are you okay, James?"

"Mm-hm." She turned over on the couch and looked up at him.

"You don't sound okay." He smiled and kissed her temple.

"Just deep in thought."

"Penny for them."

"Nothing to be concerned about... just thinking about my wacky family, is all." He glanced out of the window, a shadow of a grimace passing over his usually calm features. "Maybe I should look them up."

"That's a good idea. You never know, you might find out you have a long-lost sister you never knew about or something." James paled, but Ellen didn't notice his reaction. "I remember when I was in fifth grade and made my family tree for a school project— we actually grew trees and hung photos on them— I found a whole bunch of relatives that I didn't know I had." James smiled.

"Is the paranoid cousin on the tree?"

"Of course he is! I have a picture of it around my place somewhere. Of the tree, I mean. It died when I tried to plant it in the back yard. I think the squirrel was purposefully trying to sabotage it." James chuckled. "We could look your family up right now, if we wanted to. Everything is online nowadays."

"Not now," James mumbled, "Right now I think I just want to forget about crazy relatives and rest for a while. Join me?" Ellen smiled back at him, and snuggled up to him.

"Of course."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Much-Needed Discussion**

Woody, of course, was rather shocked when he returned home from his run on the pier. He had basically forgotten about his brother since New York; everything had been so hectic he hadn't had a spare moment to think about him. So when Cal offered to tell them what he had been up to in the last two months, Woody was the first to egg him on. He wanted to know what his brother had been doing since he last saw him; he had cleaned up, that was for sure.

Cal's smile was whiter when it had been in New York, though he hadn't smiled much then. His hair was cut shorter again; not short, of course, but it was no longer the lengthy uneven main that covered his eyes and hid his ears from view. He was wearing a nice jacket, leather or faux-leather, Woody couldn't be sure, and his jeans looked new and washed.

"I've actually been back in town a couple of weeks now," started Cal, flashing them a white smile again. "I didn't want to just jump back in, though. So I thought I'd look around for a new job, find myself an apartment if I could, before I actually came to see ya." Jordan frowned.

"You could have stayed with us for a few days while you found yourself a place," she said, looking at Woody, "Mi casa es su casa." Woody nodded quickly. Cal sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I didn't want to be a bother. I found myself a nice place not far from here, 82 Bunker Hill Street." Jordan nodded. "I was walking down Bunker and all of a sudden, this woman approached me."

Jordan swatted him playfully, and Woody rolled his eyes. "Do we need to hear this part?" Cal nodded.

"Well, yeah. She told me I had the look of a model, and asked if I was looking for a job." Jordan's eyebrows raised.

"Just out of the blue? She picked you off the street?"

"Yeah! I know, I was surprised, too. It was very strange, but I told her that I was, anyway. She got me a job here in Boston, so now I can stay!" He beamed at his brother and soon-to-be-sister-in-law. "How great is that?"

"Where are you working, then?" asked Woody, leaning against the armrest of the couch.

"You are looking at the new poster boy for none other than... dun dun dun duh! Calvin Klein." Even Woody cocked an eyebrow. "I get my own billboard and everything!"

"Wow," was all Jordan could say, so she hugged Cal instead of trying to say anything further. After a moment, she came up with, "That's great!" Woody patted him on the back, smiling from ear to ear. Jordan smirked. Cal was finally going to be a part of the family.

XXX

"So, fifteen weeks, right?" Kate smiled and laid a hand on her stomach. "Two weeks longer than usual, already?"

"Yes," said Kate happily, and Nigel was beaming. "I haven't even been cramping or anything." Aaron smiled slightly and nodded.

"You are progressing as well as can be hoped. You are a high-risk pregnancy, of course, because of your medical history and your age, but that can be handled through proper diet, and making sure you aren't skipping sleep or being too strenuous on your body." She nodded.

"God, I'd do _anything _for this to end well."

"We're doing all we can, Katherine. So, any complaints? Pain? Nausea? Diarrhoea? Fatigue?" Kate rolled her eyes, and Nigel chuckled.

"I've still got the morning sickness, unfortunately. It was never this severe before, but I'm taking that as a good sign. These days, pregnancy is leaving me slightly breathless— literally. It's a mild annoyance, to say the least."

Aaron nodded. "It's called Dyspnea. Unfortunately you can expect the problem to worsen as your uterus pushes up against your diaphragm, leaving little room for the lungs to expand." He made a motion with his hands over his stomach, mostly to explain to Nigel what he was talking about, and where everything was. "It's nothing to worry about, but you should call me immediately, or at least a doctor, if you're unable to catch your breath, your fingertips turn blue, or your heart feels like it's trying to jump out of your chest." He chuckled. Nigel nodded, putting his arms around her waist protectively.

"Anything else we should be concerned about?" he questioned Aaron seriously, and Kate groaned silently. Nigel's over-protectiveness was sure to worsen as she began to look pregnant— at the moment he was already trying to cater to her every need, and it was getting quite annoying. She wasn't an invalid!

Aaron shook his head. "Not really, but now that you're past fourteen weeks, it's a good idea to make an appointment to get a flu shot. And you might want to get a triple screen— a blood test to test for Down syndrome and spinal bifida." At Nigel's horrified expression, he quickly added, "But only two in every thousand babies actually have such things. It's just precaution." Nigel let out a happy sigh. "Sorry if I freaked you out for a second there."

"I wasn't freaked," said Kate quickly, making a face at her boyfriend, "I know the statistics. You just have to worry about him—" She jabbed a thumb toward him. "Being over dramatic about every little thing. He spent six hours last night reading a book on preventing SIDs, and has taken about seven pregnancy books from the library already." Nigel blushed.

"Soooorrry if I want to help out baby be healthy!" he grumbled sarcastically, unwilling to admit he was being a little ridiculous.

"Don't be such a big baby over it!" She swatted at him offhandedly. "Aaron, if all goes well, do you think I'll be able to deliver naturally? I hate surgery, and having it going on while I'm not sleeping sounds... disgusting."

Aaron laughed. "This coming from the person who cuts open dead bodies for a living?" Kate nodded. "I don't see why not, as everything is going as it should. In five months or so— give or take— you will be the proud owner of a screaming infant."

"When will we be able to tell gender from the ultrasound?" questioned Nigel, eager to prove he was right in their little bet.

"Actually, if you want to come in next week, I should be able to tell you then." Nigel grinned, and Kate shrugged.

"Why not? Though I already know he's a boy."

"Girl."

"Boy."

"Girl."

"Boy!"

"Girl."

Aaron chuckled.

XXX

Only a few hours later, Kate strolled into Garret's office, a content smile on her face. Nigel trailed quietly behind her after having lost the screaming fight at Dr. Fitzgerald's office. Garret looked up from the death certificate he was signing, and pushed it aside when Kate closed the door, obviously intending to talk to him about something private or important, or both.

Kate sat down across from him, and Nigel hovered weirdly behind her, looking nervous.

This was, of course, because Kate had finally convinced him that Garret needed to know they were having a baby before Bug did— and that they needed to tell him before he figured it out and it looked like they hadn't cared about or trusted him enough to tell him beforehand. Nigel had convinced her than after Garret knew, he should be able to tell Bug, too, and she agreed— on two conditions. One, that she could tell Henry; and two, as long as he came with her to ask Garret for some time off in five months' time. This was the part that Nigel was dreading; especially since he looked up to Garret much like one would a father, and he felt like a naughty teenage caught with his pants around his ankles.

"Garret," Kate started, opting to make this confession more personally by not calling him 'Dr. Macy', "We, erm..." She paused, unsure of how to proceed. She'd played it out a few times in her head, but now that she was actually telling him, her mind went blank.

"We're going to need some time off in five months or so," Nigel said quickly, realising that Kate was as nervous as he was. "And we wanted to make sure that was okay." Garret nodded.

"Of course. It's not like you don't have enough vacation days saved up, Nigel. Where are you going? England? Hawaii?" He waggled his eyebrows at the couple, and Kate groaned.

"Nowhere, actually. You see..." Garret gave them a confused expression. He had been thinking that they wanted to go on vacation, a romantic getaway of some kind. He was thoroughly confused. "It was Nigel's fault!" Nigel opened his mouth to protest.

"Was not!"

"What was Nigel's fault?" Kate froze, trying to find the words. She chose to just to say it.

"Nigel knocked me up." The look on Garret's face was indescribable.


	13. Chapter 13

_Okay, I was inspired. I wrote a super-duper long chapter, and right after I just published one on Saturday! Don't you love me? –cricket noises- Well, yeah, okay, whatEVER. (Joking) And, yes, SOON we will know the gender of Kate's baby. SOON!! Be patient._

**Chapter Thirteen: The Last Piece**

The look on Garret's face was indescribable. It was like confusion, speckled with humour and surprise, with a hint of anger, and more than a hint of absolute shock. His eyebrows shot up, his mouth opened slightly as if he was about to say something, but he was quiet, his eyes were wide and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile.

"About four months ago," continued Kate. Now that she had just spilled the beans, she wasn't nervous anymore. "I'm due in a little over five." Nigel was silent, still hovering.

"Wow," said Garret quietly, putting a hand up to his mouth and rubbing his chin in thought, "If this keeps happening, we're going to have to start our own daycare." Nigel raised his eyebrows.

"You're taking this... well, better than I thought you would, Dr. M." He shrugged.

"Seems everyone is off having babies nowadays. Renee had Michael, Lily had Madeleine, now you... and it won't be too long before Woody convinces Jordan they need a mini-Hoyt." He laughed. "It's funny, because we're all doctors, yet it seems like _no one_ knows how the human reproductive system works anymore." Kate and Nigel glanced at each other.

"So, Dr. M..." Garret looked toward Nigel. "That's it? You're not.... mad?"

"No. I always figured you'd get some poor girl pregnant someday, Nigel. I just thought it'd be one of your one-nighters. I'm sure you'll be great parents." He paused. "As soon as you finish the Johnson report." Nigel grinned and ran off, closing the door again behind him.

"You're really not angry with him?" questioned Kate when he was gone, "I was expecting yelling, or at least a lecture about responsibility."

"Yeah, well, I can't really give that lecture without sounding like a hypocrite." Kate looked sympathetic.

"Was Abigail an accident?"

"What? No. No, Abby was a miracle. We tried forever."

"Then why would you sound hypocritical?" Kate said, almost laughing at the irony of it. Garret winced.

"I guess you'll all find or figure it out eventually..." Kate was silent. "Michael... sort of... shares half my DNA."

XXX

James knew what he needed to know. He knew it, because the rookie, Davis, had told him. He knew that Mike Davis, David's father, had been involved. He was the middle man between whoever gave the order for Emily to be snuffed out and the man who had actually done the snuffing. And James knew who that man was.

He pulled up in front of the man in question's home in his rental car, a navy-blue Sedan. Inconspicuous, to say the least. The man's name was William Wright, age forty-six. Just three year older than James himself, making him nineteen at the time of the murder. The perfect pay-off.

He had to wait for a few minutes after ringing the doorbell for Wright to answer the door. When he did, James was surprised; but not intimidated. Wright was taller than he was, at least 6'1" or 6'2". He was shirtless, had tattoos and his arms and was muscular; like a person who did more exercise than the daily morning run. His head was shaved, and he had an eyebrow piercing above his left eye, one of which was blue and the other brown.

"Yes?" he asked in a deep, gruff voice, doing up his belt to hold his jeans up. James must have caught him getting dressed.

"I'm James," said James with a winsome smile, "Can I have a minute of your time?" Wright leaned against the doorframe, looking down at the other man like he was something stuck to his shoe.

"What for?"

"I have some questions," explained James, putting his hands in his jacket pockets casually, "You are William Wright, are you not?"

"You're not sellin' anything, are you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I want to ask you about Emily Cavanaugh." Wright paled.

"What about her?"

"You killed her." It was not a question. It was a statement. The older man glanced behind James. Down the street there were a few kids playing on a front lawn, running around in circles playing tag or something, but there was no one exactly near them.

"Get in here." Wright grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him inside the house, slamming the door. He shoved James against the back of the door, holding him by his arms. "Who the _Hell _do you think you are?"

"James Taylor," he stated. "FBI." This seemed to anger Wright more, as he pulled him off the door momentarily, then shoved him back against it, harder this time.

"Well, Taylor, seems you think you know something," Wright growled, "But you have no idea what you're talking about."

"You were nineteen," he continued calmly, ignoring the pain in his upper arms from the other man holding him, "And stupid. Thought you'd make a few bucks. They probably gave you a couple thousand, a gun, and a target. Am I right?" Wight snorted in disgust.

"You know _nothing_." James smirked.

"I know everything." He paused, almost laughing at the furious expression on Wright's face. "Except one thing: Who hired you?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, man."

"Tell me." He was still as cool-headed and calm as one could be, not worried for his own safety in the slightest.

"And what if I don't?" James laughed, then. He couldn't help himself. This man knew nothing about him. James removed his hands from his pockets, where they had been throughout the 'interrogation'. He pressed the barrel of his gun into Wright's stomach. Wright looked down at in, almost not understanding.

"Make one false move," he said smugly, "And you're a dead man."

"I thought you were FBI! You can't shoot me without probably cause, or unless your life is in danger..."

"I'm on vacation. I can do whatever I want." Wright's eyes widened. "Now, let go of my arms, and no one gets hurt." He smirked. "You are the last piece of the puzzle."

XXX

"Go! Have fun. I'll be fine by myself," said Jordan, pushing Woody towards the door, "I'm going to finish unpacking your stuff, then go to sleep. I have work in the morning, and I have to go in early for Nigel— he wants me to help him with some kind of experiment."

"But—"

"No buts! Go celebrate your brother's new job. You don't have to work until, like, noon. Go get drunk and have a good time." She pushed him a little harder. "Go!" Woody sighed, but grabbed his coat anyway.

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it."

"Gooooo!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" He put on his jacket and grabbed his shoes from beside the front door. "Don't forget that my grandmother's vase is going to be going on the shelf above the TV—"

"I know!"

"And the dishes need to be put in the—"

"GO!" She put her full body weight against him, and he slowly slid out the open door in his sock feet. "Get outta here before I hit you!" Woody groaned, but jumped on one foot down the hallway, trying to get his shoes on anyway. Jordan sighed and closed the door, shaking her head. For some reason Woody was always reluctant to leave her alone nowadays; like he was afraid she was going to up and disappear for no reason while he was gone.

Clicking her tongue, she opened the last cardboard box by cutting the duct tape the held it closed, and pulled open the top. On top was Woody's grandmother's vase; it was really pretty. It was white with orange and red roses hand-painted on it, the stems swirling and criss-crossing each other. It was wrapped in bubble-wrap to protect it on the move from Woody's apartment to her own, and she quickly cut through the bubble wrap and put the vase on the counter. Underneath it was Woody's dishes. Their dishes pretty much matched, so they figured they would keep them all.

Half an hour, thirty-six dishes, four teacups, four saucers, an _I-Heart-Boston_ mug and too much cutlery to count later, Jordan sighed with relief and pulled the cardboard box apart and flattened to be put in the recycles. All that had to be done was put the vase on the shelf, and she could call it a night.

She grabbed a stool from under the sink and dragged it to in front of the television. Once she figured it was in the right place, she gently took the vase and carried it very carefully to the TV, standing on top of the stool and reaching to put it on the shelf.

She groaned with frustration when she realised that either her stool wasn't close enough to the wall, or she wasn't tall enough to reach over the TV. She tucked the vase under one arm and tried to stand on her tippy-toes, stretching as far as she could. Her fingers latched onto the self and she smiled happily.

Carefully, she took the vase with one hand and tried to nudge it onto the shelf. She just had to reach a little higher...

As if on cue, she heard the door open. Woody never took her advice, but for once, she didn't care that he was home earlier than she specified.

"Woody, come here and give me a boost," she commanded, and smiled with satisfaction as she heard his footsteps approaching. "I'm just not tall enough." She lifted one foot off the stool a little. "Just push me up a little higher."

Instead of feeling his hands on her socked foot, she felt something cold and circular pressed into the skin of her lower back. The way she was bent over, her shirt was riding up in the back and left the skin exposed. Her breath caught. "Who are you, and what do you want?" There was a warm laugh from behind her, a friendly laugh, but it made her feel cold inside. She knew that laugh. But it wasn't possible for him to be there.

The vase slipped from her sweaty hand and shattered on the floor. She was still bent against the wall over the TV, ass in the air, and holding onto that bloody shelf Woody had installed, with a gun pressed to her back.

"James," she breathed, and his laugh reverberated through the barrel of the gun. Then, suddenly, it was gone.

"Ha! I really got you, didn't I? Now get down from there, Sis, before you hurt yourself." She stepped down off the stood and turned around, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of her dead brother.

"You're dead," she managed to utter in her shock. "I'm hallucinating. The tumour is back. You're not here." James's face filled with confusion.

"I'm here, Jordan. And what do you mean, 'tumour'?"

"Meningiomas," she said, "Brain tumour. I had most of it removed...." The look on James's face was like horror and shock and sympathy and dread. It was a look she'd never seen on her brother before. He slipped the gun into the waistband of his jeans and opened his arms for a hug.

Jordan stood still. She felt like her feet were glued to the floor. The hurt look in James's brown eyes was enough to make her heart melt, and so she didn't resist when he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "I did it, Jordan. I found him."

"What?" asked Jordan, gently pushing him off of her, "Who did you find?" He backed up a little to give her room, smiling with content. The last time he and Jordan had met, and the time before that, there hadn't been an occasion for such a smile. It was nice. Charming, even. He looked so much more human he she remembered. He looked better, too, cleaned up.

"I know who killed our mother."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen: Truth**

Jordan should have been weirded out by James's choice in hidey-hole, but she found it almost ironically suiting. He had of course chosen to hide William Wright in her childhood home; now abandoned, and not in the best community of Boston anymore.

Her heart raced when she saw the her bedroom window for the first time in years, but more with the excitement that her twenty-seven year quest might finally reveal some answers. James had refused to tell her much more about what he had learned, and what he had done in order to learn what he had; she assumed that whatever he had been up to, it hadn't been good. She was pretty sure by the look on his face when she asked him how he'd done it that it involved hurting, if not killing other people. But she could forgive him. He needed to know, and she could understand that. That burning desire to know the truth, no matter what cost. She would never have been able to kill to get her answer, though. Maybe she was lucky to have someone who could do it for her.

"We're here," he said, opening the car door. They were driving a navy Sedan, which Jordan found unusually usual for James. She expected a Ferrari, a Lamborghini or a Porsche; something flashy. It seemed she didn't know her brother very well. At least not as much as she thought she did.

He opened the door for her, and she followed him meekly into the house, wringing her hands. She needed to know. Once and for all. She was shaking. It was as if the world had turned over to her; everything seemed different since she knew she was finally, finally, going to get answers. The truth. The one thing that had been evading her for her whole life.

He opened the door with a small metal key she felt she recognised. It was probably Max's old one, or at least a copy of it. James led her up the stairs and to the landing, where he pulled a cord from the ceiling and a ladder fell down from a square whole in it. He offered the ladder to Jordan, who slowly began to climb the old rungs.

It was dusty in the attic. She coughed a few times as she got out of the way of the opening so James could follow. A moan made her jump and spin around to face the other side of the attic. In the corner, almost obscured by darkness, was a man tied to a chair. He had a large, purple bruise on his cheek that looked fresh. James must have pistol-whipped him, as the bruise was square-looking and in the right place.

"Wright, I want you to meet my sister," James introduced from behind her, this time not startling her. She was used to his unexpected entrances by now, and this one hadn't been, as she had seen him climbing the ladder only a few seconds ago. Wright moved his chin from his chest, where he had been resting it, and focussed blurry eyes on Jordan.

"Cavanaugh's daughter?" James must have nodded, because Wright looked away from her. Jordan found that her mouth was dry. Had this man really caused her all the pain and misery in her life? Was this man responsible for all her problems, all her misfortunes and trust issues? If he was, why was he still alive? James should have killed him before he introduced them. Now he couldn't die, because she wouldn't let her brother do it with her knowing. The guilt alone would eat her up.

"Tell her what you told me," James spat, obviously hating the other man, "Tell her who hired you."

"I was nineteen," he said, hanging his head, "I was just a kid, I didn't know..." James walked around her, noisily walking up to the other man, then slapping him across the face.

"Tell her!" he commanded in a voice so unlike the caring brother who had hugged her when he found out that she had had a brain tumour, Jordan could hardly tell it was the same person.

"Th-The police chief. Malden," spluttered Wright, "I'm sorry! I felt so bad when I saw the pictures on her mantle. I didn't know she had a f-family. They said she was going to ruin everything. That she knew things that she shouldn't. I thought I was doing the right thing, just for the wrong reason." He sobbed quietly. "I'm so, so sorry." Jordan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt faint. After all that— it was Malden. Why would he have wanted her mother dead? Because she was the only proof about him having a son? Could it have been because of her brother or was it something bigger?

She thought she would feel better knowing. Knowing that whoever did it was in jail, or dead. Whatever they deserved. She thought that she would feel... redemption. Peace. Content. Fulfilled. _Anything_. But she felt empty, cold. The anger was the only thing that felt different. It was dulled. She always felt mildly angry all the time. Sometimes got was worse, when she thought about her mother and how she might never get justice. Now, she could get justice, and all she felt was... sad.

She was aware of James's hand on her shoulder, asking if she was alright. If she felt better knowing. If he had... helped. Jordan didn't respond, didn't flinch, didn't do anything. She stood in the attic of her old house, eyes closed. She felt like a deep well of despair. She should feel happy! Or relieved! Not sadness. That just wasn't fair. She was supposed to feel better when she found out the truth. Wright had shot her mother for money, and because Malden had convinced him that it was the right thing to do. But for who? What about her husband who loved her? Her daughter who would be emotionally and psychologically screwed up because of this, and still could see her mother lying in a pool of blood when she closed her eyes? It wasn't fair.

"Jordan?" James shook her shoulder, but it was almost as if his sister had fallen asleep. She stood there, unresponsive. It was scary, to him, and very little scared him anymore. Not after what he'd done. He'd done all of it for her; to save her from herself. "Jordan?"

Wright still whimpered in the corner, but James had never felt more alone. He had _killed_ for her. He wanted to make the monsters in his little sister's closet disappear. He thought that if she knew what happened, that she would be able to move on. It hadn't even been for him. He hadn't known Emily. It wasn't him who had grown up without a mother. He shook her a little harder. She had to tell him that everything was alright. That they could be a family now. All the skeletons had been dug up. Everything was out in the open. He could transfer to Boston, and they could be a family. A real family. He had never had one of those before, and Jordan was as close as it got for him. So everything had to be okay now, it just _had_ to.

"Jordan," he said, a pitiful sob cracking his voice. James Taylor, formally known as Horton, had never cried. Not since his fifth birthday party, and his 'father' told him to grow up, and that crying was for weak people. But as he stood in the attic, it seemed as though all the dams had been broken. Let loose. A tear ran down his cheek. "Jordan. I. Need. You. To. Say. Something!" His voice cracked again. He sounded desperate, worried.

She slowly opened her eyes to look at him. She shook her head, tears in her honey-coloured eyes. "There was a dirty cop operation going on with hot drug money," James explained quietly in her ear, "Malden was at the head of it. He told our mother some things he shouldn't have when he was drunk, and she threatened to tell Max." He sighed. "He had to get rid of her. It wasn't my fault." Jordan's eyebrows came together in a tight knot on her forehead.

"Why would it have been your fault?" she asked, finally looking directly into his eyes, "I didn't blame you." The look of utter happiness on his face made her smile slightly. He had thought that she blamed him for her mother's death? She knew he was a piece of the puzzle— and he was, in a way, because their mother had been sleeping with Malden, which created both him and the circumstances for her death— but she never actually blamed him. "I never blamed you."

XXX

Woody opened the door and stumbled into the apartment drunkenly. He had taken his fiancée's advice and let loose a little, going out for beers with his brother to celebrate the new job. He had had more than a few. He was pretty must piss-drunk. A smile played across his face as he sat down in front of the door to take his shoes off.

When he finally managed to pull the sneakers off his feet— not an easy task when one is so uncoordinated— he got up and headed toward the bedroom, trying to be quiet so as not to wake her. His socked foot came in contact with something cold and sharp, and he yelped loudly. His hand came to his mouth trying to stifle the noise. Tears in his eyes, foot hot with pain, he hobbled to the couch, stepping on more of whatever he had stepped on on the way to it.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," he moaned quietly, pulling the objects out of his aching feet. Maybe he should have turned a light on, and he half expected Jordan to, since he was making enough noise to wake the dead. He figured since she was already awake, she might as well help him out.

"Jordan, can you gemme the first aid kit! I fink I ssstepped on ssomefink," he slurred, "It hurtsss! Can you turns on the lights, too?" When she didn't respond, he groaned and crawled across the couch and heaved himself over the back of it in the general direction of the light switch. He stumbled, feet hurting like Hell, and grabbed the wall, turning the lights on by accident.

He hissed and covered his eyes, stumbling blindly back to the couch. He pulled off his socks and examined the damage. Three deep cuts total. He pulled a shard of what felt like glass out of one of them, and was surprised to see that it was painted white and orange. His grandmother's vase?

His eyes, now used to the light, scanned the room, and he was very surprised to see pieces of the vase covering most of the floor in the living area. "Huh?" He looked up toward the bedroom. "Jordan! What happened to the vase?" He got up, forgetting about his feet and practically ran into their bedroom. But she wasn't in bed. It wasn't even unmade. She had never been asleep. His vase was broken. Woody had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "JORDAN!!" He yelled, tripping his own feet, trying to get to get to the bathroom. He flung open the door, but she wasn't their either.

Even with his impaired judgement from the alcohol, he knew something wasn't right. "JORDAN!!" He put his hands over his mouth as though that would make her hear him, wherever she was. When there was no reply, a sob escaped his throat, and a sense of foreboding implanted itself in his heart. He stopped in the doorway between the bedroom and the entertaining space and looked around one last time, just to make sure his drunk mind hadn't missed her somehow, then whispered in a sad, broken, almost inaudible voice, "Jordan?"


	15. Chapter 15

_I know I promised this would be up by Monday, but I've had a lot of Christmas stuff going on and haven't had time. :( I apologise. I'm not sure how good I am at writing drunkenness (as I've never been drunk before, the closet I got was a glass of wine at a New Year's party once when I was twelve), or all this deep emotion-stuff. I think I did alright (and there's probably more to come of that) but I think Jordan is a little off in this chapter. And Seely doesn't sound very Seely-ish, though I tried... he's a very difficult character. :P I'll try to keep him more in character from now on, if I can. Anyway, enjoy._

**Chapter Fifteen: Gone Again**

Woody did the first thing that came to his intoxicated mind— grab the phone and dial 555-372-5624. He sniffled pathetically, biting back tears at the phone rang for what seemed to him as forever, but finally, he picked up.

"Jordan _why_ are you calling me at TWO IN THE FREAKING MORNING?!" barked Garret into the phone, causing Woody's eardrums to hurt.

He moved the phone a little away from his ear, then whispered, "She's gone."

There was a moment of silence, then, "Hoyt?" Woody sniffled. "What do you mean, 'gone'?" Garret's wasn't panicked or angry. He figured Hoyt was either overreacting or drunk, possibly both. Jordan wasn't the same girl who would just disappear without reason anymore.

"There's glassss everywheres and she's gone and it's two in the morning and she said she'd be sleepings but she isn't here and I think she'sss been kidnapped!" Woody's voice, on the other hand, was very panicked. He was slurring his words from trying to get them out faster and from the alcohol.

"What do you mean, 'glass everywhere'?" Garret's heart plummeted. Oh no. James was in town. He hadn't warned Jordan. Garret had his coat on and was at the door in a flash.

"Broken vase..."

"Woody, I'll be _right there_!" he door banged open, then shut loudly behind him. "Don't go anywhere. Call the police. I'll call Nigel."

"Garret, what's going on?"

"James has her."

XXX

They sat on the floor together, her eyes staring nowhere and making her look distant. James leaned against the wall. Jordan had insisted they go sit in the living room to talk, but she hadn't said a word. He didn't want to rush her, but even his patience had limits. He looked at his watch; it was a little after two. They'd been sitting there for twenty minutes in silence. It wasn't annoying, exactly, but it was a little disconcerting. He knew she was thinking, but what? He couldn't tell.

Her mind was reeling, sending her into an emotional overdrive. She'd never been more satisfied with her mother's murder than she was, sitting on the floor in what used to be their living room. Knowing it was Malden all along... she felt like an idiot, but also fulfilled in a way. She'd never felt as sad, either. She wasn't sure if she felt sad because it was over, or because she couldn't get the justice she wanted. Malden was dead. He wouldn't have to spend his life in jail. He wouldn't have to face her wrath, and for that he was lucky. But the worst emotion going through her, tearing at her soul... she'd never felt as empty and lost as she did then.

Her whole life had been about finding the killer. Though she tried not to admit it; though she ignored it; though she ran from it; though she pretended like it was only a small piece of her... it wasn't. That murder, that quest... was _her_. It was Jordan. And now she just felt lost because it was over, and it couldn't be a part of her any more.

She realised after a while that she was staring at the same rip in the wallpaper she had been half an hour ago. She focused her eyes and reached up a hand to brush away unfallen tears, then looked at her brother, who had a vibrant spark in his eyes. He looked so happy, she couldn't help but thinking. Though he wasn't smiling, his eyes told her a story. He was glad it was over. He thought they could be family now. He didn't realise that that could never happen. At least not now. He'd killed somebody. He killed more than once. He'd killed '_for her_'. Her heart pounded with that knowledge, and though she didn't _exactly_ feel guilty... it hurt a little.

"James," she breathed, and he stared at her, willing her to say more. He was waiting for her to tell him it was all going to be alright now. That they could forget it ever happened, or move on. Something. Anything. But she just blinked a few times and looked into his chocolate-brown eyes.

"Jordan," he said after a moment, an almost pleading tone to his voice. "Are we... okay, now?"

"James," she repeated, sighing slightly. She licked her lips, then shook her head 'no'. This disappointment was awful to look at it. It filled his face like a cloud of misery, and she couldn't help but want to explain herself to stop that look. "We can never be 'okay', James. It doesn't work like that."

The look stayed. He didn't understand. He looked like a lost puppy that had been sitting out in the rain— a pitiful, defenceless little puppy any sane person would want to take home. And she wanted to. She wanted for him to stick around, _be_ a brother to her; but she knew, and she had to make him understand, that he couldn't. They would arrest him if he was ever found out. He had probably already changed his name, but fingerprints don't lie.

"Why not?" He paused. "We're family. Families work things out. I could... switch departments. Start working here. You never know— we might end up getting a case together. How great would that be?" Jordan had no idea what he was blithering about, but it wasn't changing her mind any.

"James, we can't just forget this ever happened. We can't just start over. People here know you. You can't stay here is you want to be safe... if you want to stay out of jail." She paused and took a long breath. "If you stay here... I'll have to turn you in to the police." Her heart broke for him. He had done so much to get her attention, to make it possible to be a family. But there was no way that could happen. The truth hurt him. But he was accepting it.

"Can we still... talk? Stay in contact? I don't want to put you in a position where you could get into trouble, but I... I just... I want to be your brother, for once."

XXX

It wasn't ten minutes later that Seely (who had been assigned to the case, lucky him) was ordering Nigel around the apartment to gather evidence. Kate was curled up on Jordan's couch next to Woody, almost in tears over the night's events. She blamed it on the hormones, but she was truly worried for Jordan's safety. Garret paced the apartment aimlessly, beating himself up over the fact he hadn't thought to warn her. Her delusional psychopath of a brother was proven to have been in Boston, and he hadn't thought that maybe she could have been in danger? He felt awful.

"Get samples from every blood drop," Seely reminded Nigel for the third time, "It might not all be Hoyt's." Nigel did a rather rude imitation of him when he turned his back to bark at a nameless police officer who was guarding the door—causing Kate to smack him over the head.

"J-just do what he says," she half-sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. "Anything to find Jordan." Nigel blushed at his insensitivity and swabbed another blood drop; there had to be at least fifty drops and smears from Woody's little accident.

"Nigel! Don't forget to bag all those fragments," Seely said again, and Nigel bit back a comment about the pushy detective. Though Seely wouldn't admit it, he was worried too— he had heard rumours about Jordan's crazy brother, and really didn't want for her to come to any harm, as much as he didn't like her.

"I can't believe I let this happen," said Woody, slightly sobered up after eating some bread and washing his face, but not really, "I shouldn't have left her alone— why did I leave her alone?!" Garret patted him on the shoulder awkwardly.

"It wasn't your fault, Woody. We'll find her," he tried, but Woody was having none of it.

"I left her all by herself!" he sobbed, "Why did I do that?"

"It wasn't your fault, mate," Nigel says, straightening after collecting another sample and labelling where he got it from, "How could anyone have known this would happen? We all thought James was dead. We don't even know it's him..." The horrified look on Woody's face caused Nigel to stop and reconsider what he was saying. "I mean, we don't have proof yet. But of course she's with James. And James wouldn't hurt her, so she's probably fine."

"But he tried to get her to commit suicide!"

"No, he didn't. He just offered to take her with him if she wanted," Nigel pointed out, knowing the story after reading the report and hearing it multiple times from Jordan herself, "He wouldn't hurt her."

"A deranged freak who probably killed his own father? Oh, noooo, he couldn't do anything to her," Seely said sarcastically. Woody paled, and Garret clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to smack the young detective. Sometimes that kid could be so insensitive, it wasn't even funny. How could he say something like that?

When Seely noticed everyone was staring (closer to glaring, really) at him, he bit his lip and added, "Sorry. I blurt out the most horrible nonsense when I'm anxious!" Nigel rolled his eyes and Garret did the same. Woody had his head in his hands.

"Erm, don't worry, Woody," said Seely, trying to be comforting to make up for his sarcasm, "We'll find her before anything bad happens. Honestly." Seely's words did nothing to calm Woody's nerves. He laid his head down on the couch cushion, trying not to cry. He snuggled a little deeper, and felt something cold press into his neck.

"What the—?" He sat up and groaned, but before he could figure out what it was a headache hit him— the drunkenness was wearing off, leaving him in full hangover mode. "Ooh."

Nigel gave him an apologetic smile. Seely left, claiming he might have a lead. Garret offered to drive Kate home for Nigel so he could finish up, as she had fallen asleep, curled it a ball at the other end of the couch. She shouldn't have come, but Nigel woke her getting out of bed to take the call, and she pressured him into telling her what was going on.

"Go ahead. She needs the rest. Growing a fetus is a big job, after all." Woody heard the comment but it didn't really register. He was too busy concerning himself with the need for Advil, and getting it from the bathroom without stepping in the smudges of his blood all over the floor.

His newly bandaged feet ached as he walked, and when he gripped the sides of the sink he had to take multiple slow breaths before he was able to grab the Advil and down a couple. He looked at his expression for a minute in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose running and his cheeks flushed, a look of pain and worry etched across his face. He ran a hand over his eyes, trying to think positively like he always did, or at least tried to, but it didn't come to him. Jordan was in big trouble this time, he could feel it. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.


	16. Chapter 16

_Happy/Merry Christmas, everyone! Or Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Karachun, Happy Yule, Happy Saturnalia, Happy Winter Solstice, or whatever else you celebrate around this time of year. :) Okay, I know this chapter is a little off, as Jordan is acting a bit like a psychopath herself, but I tried. And Seely and Nigel are being a little lean about evidence, but I figured their main priority was making sure Jordan was alright, and they already knew who did it, so..._

**Chapter Sixteen: The "Rescue"**

She shook her head in wonder. He didn't get it. He couldn't see what he had done wrong. "James, you _killed_ someone."

"I know," he whispered, "I did it for you; for us."

"There is no 'us'. You can't be here. If I know where you are, I have to turn you in. It's my job." His face fell. "You'll go to jail, James. Thank God you're in Boston or it'd be the death penalty! James, it's twenty-five to life." He bit his lip.

"But they knew, and they wouldn't tell me..."

"It doesn't matter _why_ you did it. You did it." She shook her head again. "James, you have to leave Boston." He frowned.

"But—"

"James," she said sternly, "_You have to leave Boston_." He nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck. It was something Woody did when he was uncomfortable— Woody!

She had completely forgotten about her fiancé. She looked at her wrist, but found she wasn't wearing her watch. But she did have her cell phone. She pulled it out of her jeans' pocket and flipped it open. It was almost two thirty. He would be home by now, and it wouldn't take him long to figure out she wasn't there. And she had left the vase broken on the floor in her rush to leave... a hand went to her mouth. He was going to think something awful had happened!

"What's wrong?" questioned her brother, looking at her curiously.

"Woody," she moaned through her fingers, "He's going to be worried sick! And the first thing he'll do is call the cops..." Her eyes widened. "And they'll trace my cell phone." She quickly turned it off and put it on the floor beside her.

"James, you can't be here. My phone has been on this whole time. They've probably traced it already. You have to get out of here before they find you!" She jumped to her feet. "Hurry! You have to get out of here!" He stood slowly, looking at her like she was crazy.

"But Jordan, we just got here... and Wright is upstairs. I can't leave." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the front door. "Jordan, what about Wright?! He has to pay for what he did!"

"He'll be arrested. I'll make sure he confesses, and he'll get his time in jail. Now go, James!" She open the door and lead him out of it, "Get in your car, and don't stop driving until you're out of Massachusetts." He looked at her, still frowning. "GO!" She practically had to push him down the steps, but he got in his car and turned on the engine.

"I'll call—"

"GO!" He was gone in a millisecond, the car streaking down the dark, silent road with the squeal of tires and the smell of rubber. Jordan dashed back inside, glancing around quickly. How was she going to explain how she got here, and why? She couldn't just say, 'my dead brother brought me here so he could interrogate and possibly hurt the man who killed our mother', not only would they not buy it, she could get arrested. She had to think of another excuse. They would figure out it was James, his fingerprints were bound to be at her apartment, and knowing Woody, Nigel or Bug would already be there collecting evidence... that left kidnapping.

After grabbing her cell phone, Jordan went back up to the attic, ignoring the unconscious Wright as she grabbed the duct tape James had used to subdue him from the floor. She removed a piece and stuck it over her mouth, trying only to touch the edges so it would be James's prints on the actual tape. Next she pulled a longer piece off the roll, bit the tape and tore it a tiny amount with her teeth and ripped the tape from the roll. She wrapped the piece around one wrist and then put both hands her behind her back. It was difficult, but she managed to tie her wrists together pretty tightly.

With a smile of satisfaction behind the tape, she walked back over to Wright and sat down beside her cell phone. She picked it up and opened it, biting her tongue between her teeth with concentration. She dialled the first few digits of Woody's cell number, then sat to wait. When they found her, they'd think she was trying to call him. And she'd let them believe that. As long as they didn't know that James was not a lunatic. They had to believe that he was, or else she might be arrested for being an accessory after the fact to both the kidnapping and the murders.

She leaned against the wall and settled in to wait for the police to kick in the front door.

XXX

Nigel was back at the morgue, entering the blood samples when he got the idea. Had anyone thought to trace Jordan's cell phone? He quickly scooted his chair over to another open computer, pulling up the program and entering her number. She was in Boston at first glance, bouncing off a tower near Beacon Hill. The program sent another signal, and the area shrunk. It did this twice more, settling on a house on just off Beacon Road. Nigel was on his cell in a second.

"Seely, I've got a location," he blurted out quickly, not even stopping to say hello to the young detective.

"_What? From the blood? How is that possible...?_" Nigel groaned, tucking his hair behind his ears.

"Did anyone even _try_to trace her cell phone?" he yelled, standing up and putting his jacket over one shoulder, "Nooo. She's on Beacon. I'm sending you the GPS now." He entered it into his phone and sent it to Seely. "Matt— she's at her childhood home." Seely cursed.

"_I _knew_ Cavanaugh's brother was a sick, twisted, son of a— Why would he bring her there?!_" Nigel took the phone away from his ear as Seely ranted, jumping into the elevator and pushing the ground button over and over. It didn't make it go any faster, but it made him feel like he was doing something to get to her as quickly as he could.

"Get Woody and I'll meet you there ASAP," Nigel grunted as he stormed out onto the ground floor and sprinted toward his bike. He didn't even put on his helmet as he turned it on and burned rubber to get on the road lickety-split, there was no time to. Who knew what torture James was putting their fragile Jordan through?

The smell of rubber filled his nostrils, and his tired squealed as he went faster than the speed limit. Luckily it was night and there was very little traffic; he even ran a red light to get there as fast as he possibly could. The houses flew by, and Nigel realised that he didn't know the place by sight, so he slowed down to a more reasonable pace to read the numbers on the houses.

"414, 416, 418," he grumbled, reading them quickly out loud. He needn't have bothered—he knew the house when he saw it. It was an old run-down place with peeling paint, and a cop car out front. He saw Seely jump out of the car with his gun out, pointing at the ground. Woody was in the car, looking positively depressed— obviously Seely had banned him from helping because of his drunkenness.

Nigel jumped from his bike, practically while it was still moving, and dumped it on the lawn. He swept his hair out of his face with one hand and approached Seely silently. "Back-up is on the way," whispered Matt to Nigel, nodding ever so slightly to the criminalist. "Hang back and wait with Hoyt, I'll get Jordan."

Seely slowly prowled toward the door, gun pointed at the ground in front of him. Nigel felt like he was going to throw up— this was all so nerve racking, but a thing you had to get used to, being friends with Jordan. "Matt, you can't go in there by yourself," Nigel hissed to him, following him up the creaky old wooden stairs. "What if he's armed?"

Matt turned to glare at him. "You aren't a cop. Hang back with Hoyt and wait for back-up." Nigel grabbed his shoulder, holding him back.

"You are not going in there alone," Nigel argued sternly, but in a whisper. "This guy can kill you without dirtying his conscious if he thinks it will benefit him or Jordan. He doesn't have limits." Seely groaned silently, trying to shake off the bigger man, but Nigel outweighed him by at least forty pounds and managed to hold onto his shoulder.

"Townsend, let go." Nigel glared at him, jaw squared.

"You are not going up against that monster without back-up." Seely sighed.

"They won't be here for at least a few minutes— who knows what he's doing to her in there! She could be _dying _and you are preventing me from going in there and doing something!" He frowned, then sighed in resignation. "You tell anyone I did this, and I'll kill you," he muttered, lifting up one foot and pulling up a pant leg. He detached a second gun from his ankle and flipped it, offering the hilt to Nigel. "Cover my left flank."

Slowly, Nigel behind him, Seely went to the door and took a breath. He kicked the door in, and it caved against the pressure easily. "Police!" he yelled, running into the room, gun up. He swept the room with his eyes and gun, then ran into the next one, the kitchen. Nigel went the other direction, to the left, carefully peeking around the corner gun-first. "Clear over here!" he heard Seely yell.

Footsteps told Nigel he was going upstairs, and he quickly followed the young detective, eyes going everywhere, trying to catch a movement. His hands were shaking as he pointed the gun to the floorboards. They cleared the second floor, leaving them confused. Seely turned to him.

"Where is she?" he asked, letting his gun drop to his side. "There's no one here." A noise from above them make both of them jump. It was a squeak of woody, probably nothing, but Nigel grabbed the top of the door to the attic anyway, nodding silently to Seely. Seely had his gun up again as Nigel pulled it down and the latter came down with a _thump!_. Seely nodded to Nigel then climbed the latter as fast as he could with no hands, holding the gun in front of him to sweep the room. Nigel quickly followed, sighing with satisfaction as he saw Jordan sitting on the floor, looking pretty much uninjured.

She didn't look quite as terrified as he thought she'd be, but she was Jordan, and she was never what anyone expected her to be. "Mmmttt!" she said from behind the duct tape over her mouth, her eyes smiling, "Nnggglll!" Matt put his gun in its holster and pulled a Swiss Army Knife out of his pocket, flipping it open and going to her. He cut the tape holding her hands together down the middle, and she tore what was left off her wrists and grabbed the piece on her mouth.

"Are you alright?" he asked, while Nigel stood stock still, so relieved that he could barely breathe. Jordan ripped the tape off, and Nigel winced; it sounded painful.

"Yes." She dropped the tape on the ground and got shakily to her feet. "I'm fine." She looked at Nigel, who hadn't said a word. "Is _he_ alright?" Nigel let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"I'm fine," Nigel squeaked, then walked over to her and gave her a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're okay." Seely gently took the gun from Nigel's fingers and put it back to his ankle.

"It was your brother, right? The crazy one?"

"James," Jordan said, gently nudging Nigel off, "His name is James. He figured out that this man—" She gestured to the unconscious man tied to the chair that the two men had barely taken any notice of. "—murdered our mother." Nigel and Seely's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you sure?" whispered Nigel, eyes wide. Jordan nodded.

"He confessed. I heard the whole thing. I can testify." She looked around the empty room and shivered. "Where's Woody? Why isn't he here?" Seely chuckled, wandering over to Wright and untying him so as to put cuffs on him.

"He's in the car, completely wankered," explained Nigel, nudging taking her by the hand and leading her to the latter. "Come on, I'm sure he's worried sick." As they excited the house together sirens could be heard in the background, steadily getting louder as they neared the neighbourhood.

Nigel lead Jordan to Seely's police car, where in the back seat sat Woody, his forehead resting against the window. He was sleeping, snoring gently. Jordan laughed and tapped on the glass with her knuckle, startling him awake.

"Jordan!" he said, fumbling to open the door. He pushed it open and got out of the car, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. "I was so worried." She patted him on the back.

"Uh huh. And that's why you fell asleep." He looked into her eyes, and blinked back tears. His eyes were blood-shot and he smelled drunk more than anything else.

"No..."

"I'm just joking," she said, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him back. "I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm okay." Woody sighed into her hair, and Nigel gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine."


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry about the lateness of this chapter, I've been busy doing family stuff over the holidays and everything. Well, that, and I've become overwhelmingly obsessed with Twilight. I got the series box-set from my mom, and once I start reading I can't put it down. I know it's not an excuse... and I apologise. Again. :)  
PS, I haven't forgotten my promise to spill about the gender of Kate's baby, it's just taking a little longer than I expected to get there. I will try to hurry things along, but sometimes these things just... write themselves._

**Chapter Seventeen: Aftermath**

Her coldness afterward threw him for a loop. It was twelve hours later, just after three in the afternoon, and they were already 'getting her statement' about the incident. It felt more like an interrogation. They should have given her longer, he knew, to heal after what she'd been through... but with her brother at large, they had no choice. Not after what he'd told them the FBI were up to, what they suspected... what he had proved. Garret sighed, running his knuckles against the glass that separated him from her. She looked so alone, it was heartbreaking.

She wasn't alone, of course. Woody sat beside her, stroking her dark, wild hair and watching her face intently. Across the table was a detective he wasn't as familiar with; a young guy with reddish-brown hair and bright green eyes. He was a bit of a tattle-tale of sorts, known around the department for informing the feds for things they didn't want them to know. But the Chief had requested he be the one to question Jordan, so he was. it was probably the tattle-tail quality that the Chief had been after. The feds wanted to be informed.

He wasn't unfriendly or anything to her, for which Garret was relieved; she had been through enough without this making things more difficult. "Did he give you any indication to where he might have gone?" asked the detctive, eyes narrowed slightly as he read the question off a page.

"No." Her eyes stared blankly at the two-way mirror, boring into Garret, though she couldn't have known that that was where he was standing.

"Are you absolutely positive? He didn't mention a state, a city...? He didn't tell you where he's been for the last few years?" Jordan stopped her blank stare for a moment to glare at the young detective.

"I'm positive. All he said was, 'they'll find you soon,' and 'I've got to get out of here,' when he found out I had my cell phone with me all along." She was putting words in her brother's mouth, but it was convincing enough. Her cold, indifferent tone shocked everyone listening who knew her.

Woody couldn't seem to understand why she was acting this way. Garret was pretty sure it was shock from what happened— finding out her brother was alive, only to have him kidnap her, and then reveal to her their mother's killer... It was a lot to absorb.

"Did he tell you how he found Wright?" There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Wright had killer their mother. The moment he had become conscious he started babbling about how sorry he was that he had done so, how he did it for money. He even threw Malden's name into the mix, tarnishing the old Chief's good name... but the precinct already knew that Malden wasn't at all the innocent man he had pretended to be, once it was discovered James was Malden's son.

"No. He mentioned lots of people, but that's all."

"Any names you remember?"

"No. He just said that he had to hurt them because they knew things and they wouldn't tell him." That part, at least, was truthful. He had told her that. She didn't want to deviate so far from the truth that the evidence could show she was lying, so she pretty much kept the story to how things had really happened, with the exception of her being 'forced' to go.

"Did he kill those people?" This made her pause. What to tell them, what to tell them... she was positive that he did, but if they ever found him, she didn't want to be his death sentence.

"It's possible," she responded after a moment, biting her lip. Garret could tell that that was a lie. He'd known Jordan too long. That tiny flicker of her eyes as they looked to the left was not one of remembering, but more of fabricating. She knew as well as he did that James had killed those people. But she wasn't about to admit that.

The detective made a note in the file laid out across the table in front of him, the folded his hands neatly in his lap. "Miss Cavanaugh, we are aware that you refused to be examined by a doctor—" Jordan could be so stubborn about some things. She refused to go to the hospital afterward; she just wanted to go home and sleep. "—and we are... concerned." The word sounded forced from the young detective, or so Garret thought. He barely knew Jordan, how could he be concerned about her well-being?

Woody's brow creased as he had the same thoughts. "About what?" he asked, lips tight together in a frown. Jordan did not react outwardly to the statement. She sat quietly, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, eyes blankly looking at Garret again.

"You know, that look she's giving us is giving me the heebie-jeebies," Renee muttered in the gap of the conversation behind the glass. The detective seemed to be mulling over his answer. Garret glanced at her. He had forgotten she was even there for a while, she had been so quiet. She was dressed for court, having just returned from there; her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her pantsuit looking very professional, jacket buttoned to the top.

His head snapped back to the interrogation room as the young detective began to speak again. "We are concerned about... this is difficult to put into words." Jordan glared at him again, and honey-coloured eyes turned a deep reddish-topaz.

"_Try_." The young detective blushed.

"Did your brother... in any way..." He paused, and Woody crooked an eyebrow. "Sexuallyassultyou?" Woody's mouth fell open, as did Garret's. Jordan's eyebrows went up, displaying obvious surprise at the question; her first outwardly expressed emotion she had shown since the ordeal.

"What? Seriously?" Her reaction was not one the obviously embarrassed detective had been expecting. "He's my brother!" The detective's face was pink, especially around the ears. He looked down at his sheet and made a note.

"I take that as a 'no'."

"Of course not! That's just..." She paused. "_Wrong_. He might have kidnapped me, he might be a killer for all I know, but he would never, ever hurt me. In _any_ way!" Woody, recovered from the initial shock, gently patted her on the back, trying to be comforting. She shrugged his hand off and stood up.

"Can I leave now, please? I just want to go _home_." Her indifferent tone was back, and the young detective nodded without looking up. Jordan pushed in her chair silently and stalked across the room to the door, Woody following her unquestionably like a lost puppy. Garret blinked a few times, and then looked at Renee.

"Why did he ask her that?" he asked, glancing back at the detective.

"I guess Detective Hayes thought that he needed to ask?" She shrugged. "How would I know? It's not like being DA gets me the privilege to screen all the questions they ask my witnesses."

"But James is her brother!" protested Garret, balling his hands into fists. "That he would even think that is... disturbing." Renee nodded.

"I agree, but at least now we know for sure. Not that we can really trust much else she says with her like this—" Renee gestured to the leaving couple, who were closing the door behind them as Detective Hayes continued to take notes and organise the mess of a file laid out in front of him. "She was practically catatonic until he mentioned... that." Garret looked through the glass at the door, but Jordan had already left.

"Why do you think she's like that? Shock?" Renee didn't answer right away. Eventually, she shrugged.

"I don't know," she whispered, and Garret gently put his arm around her shoulders. _No one_ was happy to see Jordan this way. Not even Renee, who obviously expressed dislike for her. It was depressing, watching her look so... broken. Because that was the only word for it: Broken. Garret hoped that it wasn't too late for the family, their morgue family, to put the pieces back together.

XXX

Jordan did want to go home. Her determination to stay emotionless on the outside was waning, and all she wanted was to sleep, regain her strength. She hadn't gotten any sleep, though she had stayed in bed until almost noon, with Woody's warm arms wrapped around her as he snored gently into her cheek. It felt nice, to just lay there with him, no impending danger to either of them. But last night she hadn't been able to keep her emotions in check.

The moment she got into the police cruiser with Woody and Nigel and did up her seat belt, her face publicly displayed everything she didn't want to be displayed: her anger, sadness, insecurity, relief and, most of all, worry; the emotions that writhed in turmoil in the pit of her stomach for the entire drive home, and still sat there as she changed into comfy pyjamas and got into bed with her fiancé. He did his best to soothe her, whispering sweet words of love into her ear, tickling her with his breath. But he had fallen asleep long before her, even though she was so tired she felt like her eyelids would fall off.

But she hadn't slept at all. Every time she closed her eyes, drifting slowing into the oblivion she sought after, she saw _his_ face; heard _his_ voice. His eyes were deep chocolate brown and innocent, looking at her hopefully like he had back at the house. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile as he whispered words of love; not the same kind Woody had been murmuring about in her ear, but family, togetherness. They would be a family, her dream of James promised. Jordan's eyes would fly open at this point, having never really been asleep. She would sigh and listen to Woody's light snores, thinking of how that would never, _could_ never, come to be.

Mostly, though, her worry kept her awake. She wanted to know where he was; but that was impossible. If she knew, she would feel guilty keeping it a secret from Woody, from the BPD. And she _couldn't_ turn him in. He was family! She wanted to know if he was safe; but that required contact. She wasn't sure if he'd be able to contact her again. She wanted to know that the police hadn't caught up to him; she didn't want him to be in jail. That was one of the most worrisome things: She didn't want justice for her brother's victims. She knew she'd be hearing the names, whether from Woody, or the papers; but she couldn't bring herself to want James to pay for what he'd done. Maybe that was because of the reason he'd done it, _her_, but she couldn't be sure. She felt dirty because of this.

No, she didn't sleep a wink last night.

When Woody led her into her apartment, she couldn't remember the car ride. Her thoughts, trailing to the night before, had taken up so much space in her mind that she didn't take in any of her surroundings until Woody had to unlock the door. He brought her to the bed, treading lightly and laying her down, knowing at once that she wanted more time to rest. He was being so servant-like, making sure she had everything she wanted.

He felt _guilty_, she realised. He thought he should have protected her, and now she was like this to him... cold. Hiding. But she couldn't slip up in her façade, or else he would see the worry. They'd know that she didn't blame James in the slightest. If anything, she blamed herself for not thinking before running off with him to find out the truth. She should have been more careful. Cleaned up first, and left a note or something so he wouldn't worry and call the police. But she had been thoughtless. And now she was hiding.

She slithered under the covers and closed her tired eyes right away. She heard Woody leave quietly, going to the living room and turning on the television with the volume down low. Her subterfuge was working, though, and that was fine with her. He didn't know how worried she was for James. She hoped she could keep it that way.

His face shimmered into view behind her heavy lids again. His hair was rugged, shaggy, and his chin was covered with five-o'clock-shadow. This was a difference James. Not the put-together brother who had gone on a killing spree in Boston to find the murderer of his mother, but was gentle and innocent and as capable of loving just as much as anyone. No, this was the old James. The one she remembered from before. This was the one who had _really_ kidnapped her, years ago, who hated Max, who was angry and deceitful. This was the man who jumped into the river. This was not her James.

She was too tired now to open her eyes, so she looked at James. He looked back, with an almost thoughtful express adorning his face, his eyes dark. This was her subconscious telling her that she shouldn't care for James. But she did, and this picture of his old self wasn't enough to convince her otherwise. He had changed. He wasn't that man anymore. And even if he was, she doubted she could hate him, even after all he'd done. He was her brother, no matter what.

_Take that, subconscious warnings,_ she thought lazily as she drifted into the perfection of REM sleep, not even minding when her James invaded her dream and began to whisper words of family once more. And then she was gone, so far gone that not even an Earthquake or a tornado ripped through her apartment would wake her. Everything was calm.


	18. Chapter 18

_Yay! Finally!! I got a lot of votes both ways, but when it came down to it, there was an obvious win. Dr. Fitzgerald, here we come!! Yes, the time has come. Not joking. Really. It finally has!! -*does dance*-  
And I don't own '_Twilight_', or '_Breaking Dawn_'. Stephenie Meyer has that honour._

**Chapter Eighteen: News**

Jordan kept up her façade. Not easily, but she did it. She didn't smile, or cry, or become angry at anyone, in fear that her worry would break through if she let her guard down. Dark circles appeared under her eyes after the first few sleepless nights. She slept _enough_, she told herself; enough that she could keep up the wall, enough that she could function properly, enough that she could do her job at the morgue. She refused to take any more time off after the second day, and Garret was doing all that was in his power to keep her happy, though seeing her like this, broken, was hard on a daily basis.

It went like this for a week. Jordan hadn't done a single autopsy since her return; she refused to do pick-ups, too. That wasn't the strangest part, though; Garret and the others had suspected that she would throw all her time into cutting open dead people for stress relief. That used to help. Instead, she did all her paper work; her desk drawers were full of the stuff, but in the week, from nine to five, she easily worked through it all. All the reports, all the certificates; everything was finished. It was month's work of work, done in seven little days. It was less than a week, really, because she ran out.

The next thing she did, after Garret tried to assign her pick-ups, was beg to trade. "_I'll do all your leftover paper work_," she would promise, "_Just do my pick-ups today_." Adriana was the first to oblige. She had just gotten permission from Garret to start doing the _real _work; she'd been stuck with heart attacks and the occasional accident for months. He finally trusted her enough to do a suicide, maybe even a murder case or two. There hadn't been anything major recently, though, so she settled for doing the overload of suspicious circumstances that always turned up. "_Sure,_" Adriana agreed readily, weary of this new Jordan, but happy to get rid of her paper work as much as Jordan was to get rid of her pick-ups. Bug followed suit once Adriana's pile ran out, and Kate did the same; none of them _liked_ paper work, per se, but they didn't want to be doing all the physical work for her, either. It wasn't healthy for her. But everyone was very cautious of this new Jordan; they weren't sure how close to the edge this had pushed her.

Kate tried to talk to her. More than once, she tried. Garret thought it would be a good idea for her to do it, but Kate was getting nowhere. Woody tried, and he got the same result. She didn't let anyone in. Jordan knew it was hurting her friends, but she just... couldn't.

"Kate," hissed Nigel. Kate jumped. She was sitting on Jordan's couch again, silently watching her friend write up one of Nigel's reports. He has refused outright at first. But even he had broken once she stared at him brokenly for long enough, begging with her eyes for the work. It was keeping her hands busy, which was what she needed, anyway, to keep her mind off it.

"What?" she whispered back. He was standing in the doorway, with the door only a crack open. Jordan heard her and looked up blankly. Nigel smiled and her briefly before taking Kate by the hand and leading her out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"We have to go." Kate looked at him with a slightly blank expression. Not nearly as bad as Jordan's, but... confused.

"Go where?" He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"We have an appointment. With Dr. _Fitzgerald_," he reminded her. "Did you forget?" She had. Her mind whirled. Had it really been eight days? It seemed like so much less, because nothing had changed with Jordan. Kate sat with her most of the time, looking out for her. Woody had put her on guard-duty.

"But I can't leave her alone," she protested as he practically dragged her to the elevator. Nigel paused, looking back. He spotted Adriana rounding the corner, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she skipped perkily down the hall, a book clutched to her chest.

"Oi, you!" he called after her, and she jumped. "Come here for a moment." Adriana approached them cautiously. Nigel seemed agitated. Everyone had been on-edge for days, and she was a little shy about it all, having no clue what was going on.

"We've got a doctors' appointment," he explained. "Could you babysit Jordan until we get back?" Adriana looked at him strangely.

"You want me to _babysit_ Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Just stay with her, if possible," Kate explained, "She's unstable, and we don't want her to do anything stupid, so Woody has us on twenty-four hour patrol, but I have to go, so..." Adriana nodded.

"Alright," she said, "As long as I don't have to bother her. She's so sad all the time. I just have to keep an eye on her?" The couple nodded quickly. "Okay."

They left. Adriana stood there for a moment before walking to Dr. Cavanaugh's office door and knocking. There was silence, but Adriana let herself in, anyway. She closed the door and plopped down on the couch uninvited. Dr. Cavanaugh didn't seem to mind, though, so she made herself comfortable. She opened her book and began to read.

After a few minutes, Jordan's curiosity got the better of her, and she looked up. She didn't really know her; they'd passed in the hall, but they had never felt the need to talk to each other for any real reason. She looked at Adriana through tired eyes, taking in her appearance. Why was she sitting on her couch reading? Her bright blue eyes were glued to the page, and every now and then she would lick her lips and flip a page. She looked like she was eating the book more than anything else. She smirked or frowned from time to time, but never looked up to see Jordan observing her.

"What are you doing in my office?" Jordan asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. She didn't mind Kate being there, so much. But Kate was her friend. This new girl was different. She didn't know her. It was weird. Adriana looked up in surprise, biting her lip.

"Reading." Jordan cocked an eyebrow. An unusually responsive gesture from the new her. Usually she didn't talk unless asked a direct question, or begging for something to do. This was different.

"Okay. _Why_ are you reading in my office?" Adriana smiled.

"It's my break." As if that explained everything! It didn't. It just frustrated Jordan, though she wouldn't outwardly express that. That would be going too far. Jordan decided it was probably better not to ask. This girl was strange. New. Different. But she could deal with that.

"Okay." There was silence for several minutes, except for the scratching of her pen and Adriana flipping pages. The girl was a fast reader. "_What_ are you reading?"

Adriana looked up again. She hadn't heard Dr. Cavanaugh talk this much to anyone else since whatever happened with her brother. She heard whispers and rumours, but really had no clue what had really happened. Maybe no one did.

"'_Twilight_'." She paused. "Well, not '_Twilight_'... it's actually '_Breaking Dawn_'..." She noticed that Jordan wasn't really listening, and stopped talking. She was _watching_ her. The hair on the back of Adriana's neck stood on end. That blank look was just... creepy. Adriana cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.

"Did they send you to babysit me?" asked Jordan, finally realising that the blonde wouldn't have wanted to spend time with her of her own accord. Adriana bit her lip. It was all the answer she needed.

XXX

The moment they were admitted and the nurse left them with the words, "Dr. Fitzgerald will be with you shortly," Nigel started bouncing up and down. Kate pushed him into the only chair in the little room, but the bouncing just turned to foot-tapping. Kate sighed, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat, and sat on the crinkly paper of the examination table.

The nurse was right; it was only a minute or two later that Aaron entered the room, smiling smugly. "So, we finally get to see who he or she is right now, don't we?" He laughed in a care-free way. "Lie down, Katherine."

She laid down on the crinkly paper and rolled up her shirt to expose her stomach. Aaron started the ultrasound, and for a minute, there was no sound in the room but the subtle beeping of Kate's heart, loud and clear as he looked for the baby.

"Uh huh, there," he said, pointing to the blob. She was bigger than last week, and Kate smiled. Nigel was grinning.

"Look at how big she's gotten!" he exclaimed, his smile huge. He paused. "Or he. We don't know at this point." Aaron smiled. The examined the blob carefully.

"See that?" Aaron pointed off to the left of the blob. It wasn't really a blob so much anymore; you could see the difference between the head and the body. He was pointing to the end of the body. "How that triangle bit points up?" He sounded excited.

Nigel got up from his seat and squinted at the picture. "Yeah, there..." He pointed and Aaron nodded happily.

"Yep. That's her pelvis." Kate frowned, and Nigel looked ecstatic.

"Her?!" He looked at Kate. "He said 'her'!"

"Yes, _her_," said Aaron happily, "It's a girl!"

XXX

Kate and Nigel had been gone an hour already. Adriana didn't know how long they were planning to be gone. She had to do a pick-up, and entrusted Bug with the job of Jordan-sitting.

"Sure, sure," he agreed, "I'll keep an eye on her."

He was less thorough than the others had been, checking up on her once and a while but mostly keeping to himself and doing his job. Jordan appreciated that. She finally had some time to herself. She hadn't had much of that for the past week.

She sighed and put her head in her hands. She could feel a headache coming on. It was a constant battle with one thing or another. There was a knock on the door, and she grunted a "Come in," expecting another check-up from Bug.

Emmy opened the door and smiled, "Special Agent Taylor from the FBI is on Line Two for you, Dr. Cavanaugh," she said politely, her smile reassuring, "He said it was important."

"Thanks," Jordan said sarcastically, grabbing the phone and giving Emmy 'the look' until she left and closed the door. She pressed the 2 and grunted, "Cavanaugh." The Feds probably wanted more information on James.

"_Hi_." Jordan stopped breathing. She must be dreaming. She had to be. "_Are you there?_" She nodded numbly, eyes set dead straight, then remembered she was talking over the phone.

"Y-yes."

"_Are you alright?_" He sounded worried.

"With you on the phone, I couldn't be better." She smiled. "You're my favourite brother, James." He laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

_I've got writer's block right now with this plot bunny. :( So my updates might kind of suck for a while, or be super short. But I'm trying!! This chapter didn't come out exactly the way I wanted it to, but I think it pretty much hit all the places I was trying to... anyway. Read on!_

**Chapter Nineteen: Conversation**

"_Tell me about the brain tumour._" Jordan stopped, mid-laugh, and bit her lip. They'd been talking for half an hour, about trivial things; the weather, TV shows, each other, the past... she wanted to know more about him, and he was happy to tell her whatever she asked. She hadn't expected him to remember the tumour, that she had mentioned when he first arrived at her house. "_Jordan?_"

"It's really not that big a deal..."

"_Jordan._" She sighed. His tone said he wasn't in the brush-off kind of mood.

"It was a benign Meningioma," she said quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I had surgery and got most of it removed. I've been lucky— no relapse, yet." There was silence on his side for a moment.

"_Yet?_" he said quietly. He sounded sad.

"Well, yeah, but they got most of it out, so it's unlikely at this point that anything will happen anytime soon... I'm fine now. Honestly." She tried to sound bright and happy for his benefit. He was so lost without her, it seemed. He has a lost puppy-like quality, for sure. But it was something Jordan rather liked— being able to be the one to take care of him, instead of the other way around.

"_You're not just saying that?_" he asked, his voice dripping with worry and regret, probably for leaving her behind while he took off, "_You really don't feel sick or anything?_" He knew her better than she'd thought, if he thought that she'd cover this up for other's benefit. Which she had been doing, for a while; but she stopped when they found out.

"I'm fine," Jordan grumbled, half-laughing into the phone. God, it felt so _good_ to hear his voice again, to know he was safe. He laughed on the other end.

"_You can be so stubborn, Jordan._"

"It comes with the territory. Solving murders and all that." James sighed.

"_I know._" Jordan frowned. What did that mean?

"What d'you mean, 'I know'? It's not like you're a cop..."

"_I'm 'Special Agent Taylor', remember?_" He paused. "_You thought that was a cover, didn't you?_"

Jordan's head spun wildly. She knew he brother had to be up to something while he was gone, but... FBI? Really? She couldn't see it. She could really see him in any job, actually, but being a fed... that was a real stretch. She chuckled. "Right."

"_Really, look me up. I joined the bureau in ninety-nine._" He sounded vaguely angry. "_You don't think I could be an FBI Agent, do you?_"

"Honestly?" She paused. "No, I can't see it. But if you say so..." She laughed. "I guess you can't make a very good living off killing people, huh?" His breath caught.

"_Jordan, don't say it like that._"

"Like what?"

"_Like I'm some heartless murderer. I'm not. I killed Malden for a reason. He had drugged you. God knows what he would've done if I hadn't been there. I killed the others to find out the truth— they deserved their fate. They knew about the whole thing, or at least parts of it, and didn't tell anyone. Not the police, not the FBI... not you or me or Max. I'm not cold-blooded. And you saying it like that makes it sound so..._" His voice drifted off. "_Bad._" The last word was barely a whisper.

"Sorry," she murmured. "You're not 'bad'. I know that."

"_No one else you know thinks so._" He chuckled. "_Did you hear they think I kidnapped you? Good cover story. Wouldn't want them to think you actually love your brother, or anything._" He sounded bitter.

"I don't care if they know I love you, James. You're my brother, they'd understand that. I just didn't want to be arrested as an accessory for the murders you committed. You don't want me to go to jail, do you?"

"_Of course not!_"

"Then it was necessary."

"_Sorry I jumped down your throat like that, Jordan—_" he was interrupted by a muffled female voice calling, "_Where do you keep the Pine-Sol, James?_" Jordan cocked an eyebrow.

"Who's that?"

"_That's Ellen. It's under the sink!_" Again, Jordan felt unreasonably surprised. Was her brother not allowed to fall in love, too? She just couldn't see him with anyone. It was strange. Until that moment, she'd never seen him with a job, a house, a girlfriend or a wife. She'd never seen him with a life outside stalking her and trying to find his father, and then their mother's killer. She couldn't picture it. The scruffy lost-puppy brother she'd known for years had a life before her, and after her. Between when he left the Hortons and when he found her in oh-three, he had built a life for himself. He came to see her wanting family, and not really getting that. But he had a life outside of Boston.

"Ellen?"

"_Yeah. She's my partner, and we've got this on-again off-again thing... it's on-again at the moment. Right, I forgot to ask you something. How're things between you and that detective? The young one from the roof...?_"

"His name is Woody. We're kind of... engaged. You know, to be married and all that?" She hadn't thought to mention it before, but that was rather important.

"_Married? You? Wow, I would never have thought._" There was silence for a moment. "_Can I come?_" his voice was soft, pleading.

"Of course, but you couldn't let anyone see you."

"_Do you have a date set? A place?_"

"Not yet, we're still in the planning stages..." There was a knock on her door. "Listen, I've got to go, someone's at my door." The door opened and Kate stuck her head around it, smiling.

"_Ok. I'll call again, alright? I love you, sis._"

"Love you, too."

Kate let herself in and closed the door as Jordan gung up the phone. "Was that Woody?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Nigel and I just got back from a doctor's appointment. And we know the gender now, which is exciting."

"Boy or girl?" asked Jordan, genuinely interested. Kate looked at her, wide-eyed. Jordan looked almost normal again; she was _smiling_.

"Girl."

"So you lost the bet?"

"Yeah, but I like the name Nigel picked out. It reminds me of my sister." She sat down on the couch, not taking her eyes of Jordan. The spark that had left Jordan's eyes was back. It was almost as if the past week hadn't happened. The only indication that they had happened were the bags under her eyes.

"Oh? What's the name?"

"Erin. Erin Grace Townsend. I think it's actually pretty nice, considering he's never named anything that wasn't an insect or a fish before."

"That's a very pretty name." There was silence as the two women stared at each other. "Why did you have the new girl spy on me?"

Kate blushed. "Well, Woody wanted us all to keep an eye on you because you were acting so..."

"Comatose?"

"...out of character." Jordan laughed. It was an easy laugh, not forced at all. Kate looked at her with a curious expression, but didn't say anything.

"Do you want to go have coffee or something? I've been spending far too much time doing all this lame paperwork." Kate smiled, standing up.

"Sure, I don't think Garret will mind if we take off a little early." She grinned. "But I think Nigel would kill me if I have coffee. We'd better get ice cream instead." Jordan nodded eagerly and grabbed her coat.

"So," she said as they excited her office and walked toward the elevators, "What did I miss while I was away?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty: Observation**

Jordan sat across from her friend at a sixties-style ice cream parlour not far from the morgue, eating her ice cream slowly. It was coffee flavoured with chocolate sauce; Kate was having vanilla. As she ate her ice cream, she noticed that she had been "away" Kate had, (for lack of a better word), "Popped."

She had a round tummy now, displaying for the world that she had a tiny life inside of her. Before, Jordan remembered that she had had a hint of a baby-bump; nothing like the stomach that stretched her baggy t-shirt tight across it. _But of course she is progressing rapidly! _she scolded herself. Her friend was six months along, after all. A week was a very long time to a fetus; plenty of time to... expand her territory.

"Nigel has insisted on taking weekly pictures of my abdomen since this... appeared," said Kate, noticing where Jordan's gaze was focussed. "He said she'll want to know what I looked like while she was inside me." Jordan nodded, eating another spoonful of her ice cream and lowered her eyes to look at a scratch on the checker patterned linoleum-topped table, instead of her friend. She wasn't quite herself yet; still more reserved than she normally would have been. She hoped her friends would forgive her inattentiveness over the past week, and she planned to do as many autopsies as she could handle to make up her lack of work to Garret.

"What did Woody want earlier?" Kate asked, lifting a spoon of her desert to her lips. Jordan looked up at her, eyebrows tightly knotting together in the center of her forehead.

"What?"

"When he called," she explained with a swallow, "In your office?"

"Woody called me in my office? When?" Kate was making no sense whatsoever.

"When I came to check on you, half an hour ago! I came just as you were saying good-bye... the way you looked afterward, I figured it was important." She hadn't been speaking to Woody. She had been speaking to James. Kate misread her final comment of '_Love you, too,_' to him. Great, she had to lie again.

"Oh, that... it was nothing."

"Then what prompted the change of... mood?"

'Mood' was hardly the word to describe the state she had been in, but it was the closest thing Kate could come up with. She ate another spoonful and watched as Jordan contemplated the loaded question. _What to say, what to say,_ her look screamed. She was going to lie to her, and Kate knew it. It was just that... look. That guilty 'coming up with a lie' look; the one she used when she was about to run off, or had, and had come back explanationless.

"Dunno," Jordan said finally with a half-hearted shrug, "I just figured out that if he had come to kill me in a week, he might not. And if no one's going to kill me, I might as well make plans for the future?" Liar. Kate nodded anyway. She didn't really care what had prompted her friend's sudden near-recovery. She was just glad that _something_ had.

XXX

When Jordan got home that night, it was late, and she was very tired. She had put in 'double extra overtime' (or, at least, that's how she'd explained it to Garret), doing as many autopsies she could get her hands on. She noticed a difference in her coworkers' moods when she dove into her work, _real _work, and not that paper mayhem she had been trying to tame. They all seemed ecstatic, even Bug, and especially Garret. She gotten off the elevator with Kate, a smile on her face, and Garret had beamed at her warmly; and God, his smile was infectious! It wasn't long until everyone in the room was smiling like an idiot; and that was extraordinary, because most of the people in the room had just lost a loved one.

She couldn't remember Woody being so happy when she walked in the door and frowned at him. Even that little frown; it was more than the catatonic Jordan would have allowed. A _frown_ made him gleeful. Her silly little Farm Boy.

And when she smiled at his smile! The look in his eyes, like the world was right for once, was excellent. She hadn't realised what her not being herself had done to the people she loved. She really was a big influence on everyone, wasn't she?

And was she ever tired! It seemed like all this emotion business could really wear out a person. She flopped onto the bed as soon as she took her shoes off and got out of Woody's arms, which were practically restraining her in their warm hugging of her. She vaguely remembered him pulling off her socks, tugging her shirt over her head and taking off her jeans, then pulling one of his t-shirts (the baggy ones she slept in) onto her. Very vaguely. She was so tired, she wouldn't have known if it _wasn't_ Woody doing these things (but of course it was).

Woody, on the other hand, wasn't tired at all; he was pleased just to watch her sleep. Once he had gotten her changed into her nightclothes (he knew she hated waking up in dirty clothes, and figured he might as well try and make her happy, since she was being so good today), he tucked her into their bed and watched her. She looked so peaceful, a small smile gracing her face. It had been too long since he'd seen her smile. Even a frown in the doorway was wonderful. It meant that his Jordan, the real Jordan, was shining through his mask she'd had on. He wasn't sure who the mask was for, or why she had been wearing it (though he knew it was defidently_ not_ shock); but he was glad that she was beginning to be herself again.

He had a late shift; he would have to leave her to sleep on her own in an hour. But for now he was content just to lay down next to her and listen to her breathe. She hadn't been sleeping well, and just her being so totally under like this (not the restless light dozes she'd been forcing on herself, but a deep, calm sleep) was excellent.

XXX

James laughed and put his arms around his red-haired girlfriend as she struggled away from him. "Marry me!" he said giddily, dropping to one knee and grabbing Ellen's hands, holding them securely in his. "Marry me, Denny! Let's go to Vegas and do it tonight!" Her fake attempts at escape stopped dead and she stared at him.

"What?"

"Marry me, please?" he tried, grinning in a way that was just so _Cavanaugh_, that if you compared his and Jordan's smiles, you would be able to tell that they were siblings in an instant.

"Wow." She paused. "Where did that come from?"

"My little sister is getting married, and I promised my mother I'd get it done before her," he lied, "Besides, I've been wanting to ask for a while... and we've been going strong for a couple of months. I think it's a good idea..." He faltered, and she grinned, loving his uneasiness.

"Of course I'll marry you, James. I've been waiting for this moment for years!" She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. _Thank you, Jordan, for the idea,_ he said silently, kissing his woman back. _Thank you, thank you very much._

After a long moment, he broke the kiss, grinning at her. "So," he said casually, resting his hands in the small of her back and gently pressing his body against hers. "Where are we going to honeymoon?"


	21. Chapter 21

_Note: The timeline in this story is a little off... but according to my calculations (from where my story started, when CJ was cancelled, et cetera) it's now somewhere around the end of July, 2007. Therefore: Bush is still in office, the "rumours" of Jorja Fox leaving CSI are just surfacing, touch-screens are not all the rage yet, and I was a twelve-year-old girl who had never, ever _heard_ of fanfiction before. —shudders—_

_The last chapter was short and awful, do to my writer's block. Now the block is gone, but it makes my chapters go awry... this is a lot longer than I planned on it being, and a little tiresome, I'm afraid. But better than short, I suppose... anyway._

**Chapter Twenty-One: Redecorating**

"I think we should convert my spare bedroom into a nursery," Kate blurted out, smiling uneasily. Nigel looked up from the computer screen.

"Yeah, sure." It was a big step, emotionally, for her. Kate had always been weighing the idea that this wouldn't happen, but six months into it... They had to start preparing for the better of two options. "You want me to help?"

"Well, that was kind of the reason I used the word '_we_.'" She smiled, putting her hands on her hips in that authoritative pose he liked so much. "And you're better at all this decorating stuff than me, anyway. What kind of colour... thingy do you think her room should have?"

"Colour scheme, or theme," he corrected automatically, to which she let out an exasperated sigh, "The norm for this kind of thing is usually pink with flowers, or yellow with bees or animals is unisex... or blue, but that's boys', right?"

"What about purple? Light purple, of course, 'cause babies like light colours... I think. Has anyone done a study on that? Which shades are better for babies? Maybe we should go with primary colours; red, yellow and blue? Or something cool, like green and purple. That's different. And I like purple."

"I got that." He grinned. "Purple it is! Maybe more of lavender—" Kate threw her hands up in the air in defeat.

"Just give me a can of paint and a brush, and a couple of hours. They have nontoxic paints now, right?" She patted her belly, a look of concern creasing her features.

"Yes, Kate. I'll make sure that there is nothing harmful you can breathe in." He paused. "You want to paint, then? What colour is it right now? White, right? Then we won't need too many coats... why do you want to paint? Aren't you afraid of exerting yourself?"

"No."

"But if you strain your back—"

"I want to paint because I like painting. Make sure it's nontoxic, and I'll worry about it. And we need a crib or something, right?" Nigel cocked an eyebrow. "Yes. Right. Err... and sheets, to match the paint colour we pick. You said lavender? Ooh, have you ever seen Winnie the Pooh?"

"Who hasn't seen Winn—?"

She cut him off. "Isn't Eeyore sort of lavender-ish? I _love_ him." Nigel's eyebrow cocked again. Kate had never displayed this kind of tenacity towards liking anything before. She had never been described by him as '_enthusiastic_,' either, but she sure was acting that way then.

"_Hormones_," he muttered to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just Eeyore's always so _sad_..."

"That's why he's awesome!" Nigel just rolled his eyes.

"He's awesome... because he's sad?" Kate nodded earnestly.

"Yes, well... not _only _because he's sad. He's also smart, adorable— he's always losing his tail, and when his house falls down? Magic happens. That cute little butterfly that's always knocking it over was cute, too."

XXX

"Oh, I love Eeyore!" exclaimed Lily when she caught Kate in the hallway. Apparently Nigel was already spreading the news of their redecorating, true to his 'Gossip Queen' title. "I was planning on doing Maddie's room in a Winnie theme, too, but butterflies just seemed more appropriate once I moved in with bug. And she loves them, anyway." Kate nodded, half-listening to Lily's one-ended conversation. "That reminds me— have you seen Bug? We were supposed to leave half an hour ago, but he's up and disappeared... oh, there he is! See you! And don't hesitate to call if you guys need help with the nursery or anything." She skipped off toward her boyfriend, leaving Kate standing by herself outside of Trace.

"Odd," she murmured to herself, putting a hand on her stomach and walking to the break room. Nigel was in there, eagerly telling Jordan about their redecorating. Kate didn't see what the big _deal _was; it was only a nursery!

"Can I help?" Jordan asked, glancing up at Kate when she heard the door open. "Painting sounds like fun." Kate sighed, then smiled.

"I was planning on asking you to help," she explained, shaking her head slightly. "'Girls' day in.'" She helped herself to a cup of coffee, which Nigel immediately removed from her hands and replaced with a ginger ale from the mini-fridge. Jordan clapped her hands together.

"Cool! And what's this about Eeyore being the theme? He was always my favourite from Pooh." Nigel, again, rolled his eyes.

XXX

The next afternoon, Jordan pulled one of Woody's old t-shirts over her head and then put up her hair in a messy ponytail. Kate had explained how they had to move fast because it was 'only a matter of time until I'm a blimp and can't help.' She was wearing sweats that Woody had deemed okay for painting the nursery in; old clothes that could be messed up and he wouldn't miss them. The shirt had a hole along the seam on one side; a small one, but a hole none the less. He was planning on getting rid of it anyway.

"I'm going now!" she called over her shoulder as she grabbed her boots and jacket, "Be back for dinner, probably!"

She heard Woody's joking reply of, "You'd better!" as she slipped the jacket over her shoulders and stumbled out into the hallway, pulling on her boots. She could hear the rain pounding against the windows at the end of the hall. Oh, a _perfect_ day for staying indoors and doing baby preparations! No way she was going to stay out for long in that pounding, heavy summer's rain.

When she got to Kate's townhouse, she was met by a man of about Garret's age at the door— and she momentarily wondered if she had gotten the address wrong. He smiled at her welcomingly, though.

"Jordan, right?" He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. She did, taking down her hood and shaking out of slightly damp hair. "I'm Henry McGregor; Katie's neighbour." Jordan almost laughed; she'd never heard anyone refer to Kate as 'Katie,' before.

She shook his hand and introduced herself. He was a little taller than her, with brown hair that was mostly gray; dark green eyes that were almost black; he had a long nose and dimples on his cheeks as he smiled at her. Not a bad looking guy, he reminded her of her fiancé a little; but he was nothing compared to her Farm Boy, of course.

Kate appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling wildly and brandishing a clean paintbrush almost like a weapon. "Jordan! Come on up; oh, I see you've met Henry." She frowned. "He's taking Binky for a walk for me." Henry nodded with another smile, unhooking a little red leash from the coat rack.

"We'll be bank in twenty minutes. You've got my cell phone number— don't hesitate to call if you need anything." He walked off into the living room in search of Binky as Jordan hung up her coat and trotted up the stairs to the landing.

"I found the perfect bed sheets yesterday!" She took walked into the second door on the right off the small hallway, gesturing for Jordan to follow. "See, they're so cute!" They were light blue with pictures of Eeyore in different poses all over it; doing a somersault; sitting with a sad expression; standing with his tail between his teeth; sitting next to a crumpled pile of twigs; standing with a butterfly perched on his nose; putting the last twig onto his house. It _was_ very cute.

"And yet you don't have a crib," Jordan replied with a chuckle, "So, are we going to paint this thing, or what?" She gestured to the white walls of the newly cleaned-out spare bedroom. Kate nodded, putting the sheets back into the plastic bag she had pulled them from.

"Yep. Is Wonder Boy coming over?"

"Woody has to work."

"'Kay."

Painting the room was a lot of work, but the two friends had fun chatting and just having girl time. Jordan let go more than she had in a while; she smiled and laughed at the right points in their conversation, putting in her thoughts and speaking freely to Kate. It felt good to be herself again. It felt good to feel carefree. It felt good to be interested in everything that was going on around her, again. Even if there was still a lot on her mind; the wedding, James, her mother's murder, Max, Maddie's health, Kate's baby... she felt freer than she had in a long time.

"Oh, you'll never guess what I saw on a billboard yesterday while we were out shopping!" Kate said, wiping the sweat from her forehead and dipping her paintbrush into the can again.

"What did you see?" asked Jordan, actually interested.

"A Hoyt." Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "Not Woody... but they _have_ to be related! They could be brothers. Does Woody have a brother? 'Cause this guy looked _just like him_..." Jordan relaxed and grinned.

"Calvin. He's a couple years younger than Woody, got into modeling with for Calvin Klein recently." She chuckled. "He actually has a billboard?"

"Yes! And he looked _gorgeous_..." Kate smiled. "I don't think Calvin Klein underwear have ever looked as good as they do on him." They laughed about the subject for a while, eventually talking about modeling, and then famous people. They discussed the goings on of the Spears sisters, who their favourite actresses are, their theories on what was going on in _Lost_, whether or not Sara was really leaving the team on _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_, what George Bush was up to nowadays... everything imaginable.

The pair was still comfortably giggling about Drew Carey's attempt to replace Bob Barker on the _Price is Right_ when Henry returned, not twenty minutes later but more than an hour, holding a cardboard tray of coffees. Binky, in all his twenty-five pounds of glory, began to hop around Kate's ankles, barking happily.

"Guess I was a little longer than I said I'd be," he apologised, offering the tray to the two women. Each took a cup gratefully; they'd been working for an hour and needed a break. "Sorry. The boys were trying very hard to run as fast as possible; Bijou and I were just trying to keep up." Jordan gave Kate a questioning glance and she went on to explain that Henry had two show dogs of his own; Bijou, a female Biewer Yorkshire Terrier, and Bear, a male fancy white teacup Pomeranian puppy.

"That's one long name for a breed of dog," Jordan commented vaguely, taking a sip from the hot caffeinated beverage Henry had been so kind as to bring, "What was it? Fancy white...?"

"Fancy white teacup Pomeranian," said Henry proudly, "They're quite rare, but absolutely_ beautiful_." Kate nodded in agreement, and Jordan pretended to know what such a dog would look like.

When Kate and Henry started discussing dog breeds, Jordan silently left the conversation to survey the work they'd done. With the two of them, they'd been able to paint three of the four walls the soft lavender that was the colour of Eeyore's stomach. Kate would have wanted to paint Eeyore all over the walls, but neither were that good at painting. Not to mention that Erin would grow out of Eeyore eventually, and might not appreciate having to repaint her walls just to get rid of all the baby stuff... better just to put up the vinyl removable wall-decals that Nigel had found earlier that day.

"...And my mate Mike has a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever. Thinking about entering him in the large-breed category next show... he's a good dog, very well trained. Mike had him shipped in from. God knows where..."

"Nova Scotia?" Jordan suggested meekly, finished her looking around and ready to talk again. She sipped her coffee.

"Err, no." Henry laughed a little, taking a long drink from his own Styrofoam cup, "Somewhere down near Utah, actually, I believe. Though Buddy's _old_ owner might have gotten him from Canada." Jordan nodded.

"Oh."

"I hear you work with Katie at the ME's office," Henry said after a moment of awkward silence, "Did you see the fake Naeema we sent Katie a couple of months ago? Terrible thing. At least we got a real one back."

"Oh, no I didn't. But I heard about that. I was doing another case at the time." Henry nodded, turning to Kate.

"I've got to go to the museum," he said with a dimpled smile, "I'll see you later, yes?" Kate nodded.

"Thanks for the coffee. Nigel won't let me have any." Henry chuckled.

"There is absolutely no proof whatsoever that it affects the fetus. He's just a wuss. I told you to be careful with that one, but _no_. Now you're having the child of an over-protective Limey." Kate rolled her eyes, and Jordan's widened.

"Now who's being over-protective," Kate muttered as Henry left. "He doesn't like Nigel much. Keeps telling me I can do better. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I love the guy."

"You're in love with Nigel?" Kate rolled her eyes again, this time toward Jordan.

"Well, _duh_. I'm also having his kid, remember?" Jordan blushed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean— It's just, I've just never heard you say it."

"I've never heard you say you love Woody, either, but that doesn't mean that you don't."

"Of course I love Woody!"

"Exactly."

"I'm lost." Kate grinned.

"That was the point." She patted her stomach. "I'm hungry. Want to pig out on ice cream and continue our discussion downstairs?" Jordan nodded eagerly, following her friend down the stairs and to the kitchen.

"Kate... what's a fancy white teacup Pomeranian look like?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Realisations**

Everyone noticed subtle changes in Jordan. Or, rather, 'new Jordan.' Garret noticed her arguing with Kate over the best way to do a particular autopsy they had decided to share because it was interesting; a guy found at the bottom of a well, partly decayed but somehow mostly preserved by the water and the chemicals in it. The body had to have been down there for years, but it obviously wasn't murder. It just looked like a cool autopsy.

Kate noticed her kiss Woody good-bye when they went for coffee the next week; Jordan had coffee, and Kate got a tea (because Jordan had accidently let it slip about them drinking coffee after painting the nursery, and Nigel claimed he would go over her purchasing records if she kept drinking the stuff). She was happy, smiling and calling him, "Wonder Boy," like Nigel sometimes did.

Bug saw her laugh at a joke Adriana told. Her laugh had surprised him; he hadn't heard it in what felt like _ages_. Not to mention she and Adriana seemed to be getting on well, and Jordan rarely took to anybody new easily. Even though Adriana had been there for a few months, he'd never seen the two talk before. It was kind of nice, seeing an old friend and a newer friend click together. He'd known Adriana since they were children and knew that she and Jordan were polar opposites, but opposites often attract and mesh together quite nicely, like Woody and Jordan had.

Nigel and Woody were the most exuberant about Jordan; Nigel tried to make her laugh as often as he could, and Woody was being extra sweet— doing everything he could not to fight with her or make her feel sad again. He didn't even bring up the wedding issue, though he was anxious about it. When she was ready to talk about it again, she would.

The only difference in Jordan, either than the occasional blank stare or refusal of an interesting case, was the mysterious phone calls. No one had figured out who they were from, but every day during her lunch break she would get a call. Sometimes Emmy caught it and patched it through to Jordan's office; when Nigel inquired as to who kept calling, she told him the truth— the FBI.

"It's probably something to do with her whack-job brother," she confided in him seriously, "Updates on their progress finding him, or something."

Two weeks passed, and Jordan was becoming more like her old self than ever. She'd thrown herself into a suicide case, trying to prove that it was murder because she had one of those 'gut feelings' that the teen's boyfriend was responsible for her death. It had been a suicide, but he had been responsible— posting a video of them having sex on the internet drove her over the edge of her already self-loathing life, and she lost it, taking a handful of sleeping pills and downing a bottle of tequila.

Afterward, Woody, noticing her moodiness at being wrong about the boyfriend, took her to dinner at a cute diner a short walking distance from the morgue a few nights later. The place was really corny; waitresses on rollerblades, seventies wall paper and black-and-white tiles, an old juke-box that barely worked and didn't light up anymore, a man in a flowery apron named Joe behind the counter. It was awful— and Jordan loved every minute. They laughed and talked about everything, brushing off the case as she had done with so many others. He told her he loved her several times, and was about to bring up the wedding when she surprised him by doing so herself.

"When do you think we should get married?" Jordan asked him casually, taking a sip from her vanilla float, trying not to laugh at his overly-pleased expression. He grinned at her.

"As soon as possible," he joked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "So we can honeymoon all the faster."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "I was being serious."

"So was I." The grin didn't leave his face, and for that she was kind of happy— any reason to look at his gorgeous dimples was good enough for her.

"Woody... we need to set a date." His smile faded.

"You're being... serious, serious. Wow. You're right, we do need to set a date. The sooner the better, though, and not because I want the honeymoon to come faster..." He smiled again. "Though I _do_. You probably want Kate to be there, right?"

"Of course!"

"Didn't she say something about her doctor wanting to put her on bed-rest for the last month of the pregnancy?"

Jordan's eyes widened. She'd forgotten about that. Kate had mentioned it— more like screamed about it. She was thoroughly pissed off about the whole thing... but after a good rant to Jordan, when she was calmer she admitted that it would probably be best for the baby, and she really wanted to go full term.

"Oh, yeah."

"And she's seven months along now, correct?"

"Six and three weeks."

"That gives us roughly five weeks to get this whole thing planned and going, am I right?" Woody smiled smugly, happy that his plan to get Jordan to marry him as soon as possible was well underway, and working like a charm. "We could wait several months, I suppose... but then there's the risk of a baby screaming in the wedding video." Jordan nodded absently, biting her lip.

"August."

"Jordan, it _is_ August."

"Today is the sixth."

"And?"

"I was thinking closer to the thirtieth."

"That's twenty-four days from now!" He seemed pleased.

"Good to see you can still do math without your fingers, Wonder Boy," she said sarcastically, drinking again from her float, in which the ice cream was rapidly melting and mixing with the coke. "And we can't wait any longer than that, because Kate'll be starting bed-rest in early September."

"And you're not... freaking out about this?" Woody sounded both very surprised and slightly sceptical. Jordan crossed her arms.

"No, man, I said I'd marry you, and I plan to. It's all happening a little faster than I'd hoped, but I can deal. We need to send out invitations soon, right? And make sure Paul is free."

Woody rolled his eyes to that last comment. They'd agreed that Father Paul would be the priest to do the ceremony, and Paul, of course, was thrilled for them, but Woody was still a little wary of the guy. Those jealous feelings he tried to suppress when any man looked at Jordan the wrong way were always stronger around Paul; not because Paul looked at Jordan that way, because he didn't, but because they had dated and Jordan was close to him.

"Yeah, because we don't want him to accidently have plans for that day, right?" he added in an equally sarcastic tone. Jordan drank the rest of her float without the straw, taking the last two gulps from the side of the glass and pushing it off to the side of the table.

"Right," she said seriously, getting up and kissing Woody on the cheek. "So call him. I have to get back to work; my lunch break is almost over and I'm expecting a phone call."

Woody paid the check and watched her run off, grumbling something under his breath about her _always_ expecting a phone call. He wanted to know what was so important that the FBI wanted to talk to her every day (Nigel had spilled about the fact it was the FBI calling her, true to his Gossip Queen title), but didn't want to tell her that they had been discussing it when she wasn't around.

It wasn't until he walked out of the door of the diner onto the street that her last words sunk in, and he yelled, "Wait, _I_ have to call him?!" after her. But she was long gone, already on the elevator several streets over, happily ready to talk to her brother on the phone again.

XXX

"How far along are you?" Kate looked up from her case file, which she had been reading while walking slowly back to the morgue. Nigel had gone to run some errands shortly after their lunch at the soup place down the street. He offered the give her a lift the block back to the morgue on his bike, but she'd rather walk, for safety reasons.

It was the biggest thing Kate hated about being pregnant; the questions. Strangers, wanting to touch her stomach, ask her how far along she was, when the baby was due, if she knew the gender (and when she simply answered 'no' to try to make one go away, he asked if she knew the date she conceived, because apparently there was a website that said that the day of the week the baby was conceived on could predict gender better than an ultrasound). Everyone seemed obsessed with it, except her and maybe Jordan (though Jordan was almost as excited as Nigel, sometimes).

She stopped and turned to the woman who had asked the question; older than she was, pretty, Caucasian, brunette with a dusting of grey, slight English accent. "Almost seven months."

"An October baby? How wonderful." Kate nodded and smiled vaguely at the woman, before turning back to the street, waiting for the light to change and the 'walk' sign to come on so she could cross. "Does he kick yet?" She noticed the woman's fingers twitch slightly, as though she, too, wanted to touch Kate's stomach. But she, unlike others, didn't want to be rude.

"Not yet. And it's a girl."

"Oh. Ultrasound?" Kate ground her teeth together.

"Yep."

"That's nice."

The light changed and Kate started to cross the street, closing and tucking the file under her arm. The woman continued to walk alongside her across the street, and even to the doors of the building that held the morgue. Kate was a little weirded out by her, now. She almost felt as if the woman were following her.

The woman opened the door for Kate and held it. She smiled appreciatively, remembering that there was a clinic on the sixth floor, as well as several other businesses in the building. She had just happened to run into someone going into the same building; nothing wrong with that.

They got onto the same elevator together, too. "Floor?" Kate asked her politely, as she was closest to the buttons.

"Ninth, thanks."

Kate was a little shocked, but pressed the 9 button anyway, and the doors closed. "Oh, me too." The woman put on a sympathetic expression and patted her on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, dear. It wasn't the father, was it?" She seemed very concerned, for a stranger.

Kate realised that the woman thought she had lost someone, and quickly told her that she worked there, and assured her that the baby's father was perfectly fine. The elevator stopped on the ninth floor, and they got out.

"If you work here, perhaps you could help me find someone. He's not dead, mind you— at least, I hope not. He works here, too."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Kate replied, walking with the woman through the waiting room.

"Thank you, dear, I really appreciate it. You see, I'm looking for my son-in-law... his name's Nigel Townsend?" Kate stopped dead in her tracks.


	23. Chapter 23

_I kill you all with my cliff-hanger! Don't fret; I clear things up quickly... just read on. _

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Cancer and Butterfly Wings**

"Nigel...?" She paused, and gave the woman a seriously confused look, her heart beating rapidly. This woman barely looked older than Nigel himself— Nigel was almost thirty-nine, this woman looked mid-forties, easy. How could she be his mother-in-law? For one, Nigel wasn't married... _was he?_ "Nigel is your... son-in-law?" she finally managed to choke out, then she paused for the beat. "The mother of his... _wife_?" She felt as if her heart would jump out of her chest. No way. Not Nigel.

It was the woman's turn to look confused. Then it dawned on her. "My mistake, dear! I used the wrong word again... Nigel isn't married, to my knowledge. I heard he was a bit of a womanizer from his brother. Not the marrying type," replied the woman, "Yes. I haven't actually met him in person... I married his father... I can't think of the word..." Kate's heart slowed its rapid pace slightly, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

"Stepson. Not son-in-law. _Stepson_." She said it as if she were trying to convince herself; to get herself out of panic-mode. For half a second, she had believed that she was Nigel's 'other woman.' But for only half a second. Nigel wasn't like that. No matter how many girlfriends he'd had, he had never had more than one at once.

"Yes! That's it! I'm sorry, I actually speak Hebrew more often than English... I was born in Israel, and often mix up words... sorry to confuse you, there. You looked like you were going to have a heart attack!" She laughed slightly. "My apologies. I've been living in England for ten years and I'm still not used to this language." She paused. "No matter. Since you obviously know him, I really need to talk to him. I've got... bad news. The kind you can't give over the phone. You know where he is, yes?"

"He's out doing and errand... but he'll be back shortly. Here, you can wait in my office..." Kate led the woman to her office and then turned around saying, "I'll be right back." And closing the door.

"Emmy!" she said hurriedly, "When Nigel steps off that elevator— I mean, the _second _he gets here— you tell him to get into my office... _now._" Emmy nodded, a slightly confused expression on her face, but didn't have a chance to ask Kate what was wrong as the pregnant woman was already in her office again.

"Sorry about that," murmured Kate, sitting down behind her desk, opposite Nigel's 'stepmom.' She obviously didn't know about their situation— or else she surely would have figured out that the baby was Nigel's. "I'm Kate, Kate Switzer." She offered her hand to the woman.

"Deborah Townsend, call me Debbie," said Debbie, shaking Kate's hand enthusiastically. "How do you know Nigel?"

"Well... uh..." Kate paused, wanting Nigel to be there when she broke the news. "We're coworkers... and good friends." She nodded. "Yep, very good friends." Her voice was still shaking slightly. The confused word had left her breathless.

"That's nice. He's very charismatic, even over the phone, you know." Kate smiled.

"I bet he is." She stopped. "You said you had some... very bad news? Has someone... passed on?"

"Oh, no, dear— at least, not yet. You see, Nigel's father—" Nigel took this moment to burst through the door, hair a wild mess, looking thoroughly upset.

"Kate, what's wrong? What's the emerge—" He saw Debbie and stopped for a beat. "—ency?" He closed the door behind him silently, straightened his hair and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Hi."

"Nigel!" said Debbie, jumping from the chair and wrapping her tiny arms around him. "I've got terrible news! I couldn't tell you over the phone!" She was a lot smaller than Nigel was— by at least a foot— and it looked very awkward the way she was hugging him. Nigel looked shocked.

"You flew all the way over here to give me 'terrible news'?" he inquired, sounding perplexed. His eyes widened. "Is dad alright? Collin? Frankie?"

"Your brothers are both fine," she said almost solemnly, "But your father... he's not well, I'm afraid. He would have flown over himself, but he's not in a condition to fly. The doctors say it is cancer, and he's going in for some experimental treatment... but at his age..." She chuckled. "Well, needless to say, he wants you to fly over as soon as you can to say your good-byes before... you know..."

Nigel looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. He was pale, white as a ghost, and his eyes were wide. "C-cancer?" he whispered the word like it was an evil, despicable thing. Debbie nodded sadly and Nigel looked like he might faint, stumbling to Kate's desk and leaning up against it, gripping the top so hard his knuckles went white.

"Oh, Nigel," Kate whispered, seeing the look of absolute terror on her boyfriend's face, "I'm sorry." She walked around the desk and went to touch him, comfort him, but he flinched away from her hand and let go of the desk.

"Don't..." he said quietly, backing away from both women. "Just... don't."

"I'm sorry, dear. Is it awful for this to happen to you again..."

"Again?" Kate asked quietly, but her question went unanswered as Nigel spun on his heels and left her office, slamming the door behind him. Debbie followed him, much less violently, closing the door quietly.

Kate, standing alone in her office, was wondering what the hell just happened. Nigel wasn't close to his father, as far as she knew. She'd heard about him getting remarried once, and about his having a new half-brother named Frankie, but not about cancer at all. She never knew what happened to Nigel's mother; but by the way his stepmother, Debbie, had said 'again,' she had a pretty good idea.

Losing one's parents is always terrible, but to lose them both to cancer... it had to make you think. Nigel mentioned that he had 'sturdy Townsend genes,' once. But how healthy could a family be if both parents had died of, or were dying of, a cancer? Nigel was probably seeing his life flash in front of his eyes, wondering if (or when, knowing his pessimistic side) he'd be next. And she was standing like an idiot in her office instead of helping him! But she couldn't make her feet move. They felt bolted to the floor.

XXX

Nigel slammed his way down the morgue hallway, not caring that he just pushed Bug out of the way or the fact that he knocked over a pile of something outside Dr. Macy's office. He was just so _angry_; irrationally angry at his father. It wasn't his fault that he had cancer. It wasn't his fault he was tearing Nigel apart at the seams. How could this happen again? He'd barely lived through the first time!

He found himself standing in the crypt amongst the bodies of those passed on; a covered figure on a gurney to his left, a wall of metal boxes filled with corpses to his right. Despair welled in his chest. His mother had been in a box just like those thirty years ago, then a pine box in the ground. When had he last visited her grave at home in England? He couldn't remember. His father would soon be joining the bodies, as well. He might be cut open and into pieces, each piece being weighed on a cold silver scale and then shoved back into his father's empty shell and sewn up. The idea was revolting. He wanted to vomit.

He stared at the figure under the pale blue sheet, the shape of the man under it distinctly visible.

Cancer was hereditary. He'd been able to write it off as a fluke when his mother died of it; sometimes families had a bad-luck case where there was only one. But if his father had it too— and his parent's obviously hadn't been related— then it was more than just bad luck. It was awful luck. And there was a good chance his luck wasn't going to change. He would be under a sheet, in a metal box, in a pine box and six feet under, soon. Anytime. There was no way to tell when, but eventually... he shivered. How could be bring a life into his world, his daughter, knowing that he might not be there to help Kate raise her? It was irresponsible! Kate would be left alone, raising his child. It wasn't _fair_.

He jumped when he felt fingertips lightly brush his arm. He quickly wiped away his tears; he didn't know he had been crying. He turned to Debbie, who was looking up at him with a mixture of concern and sorrow lining her features. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. See, this is why I had to do it in person. Who knows what would have happened if you found out over the phone!" She patted his arm, and he took a long, shaky breath in.

"This isn't happening. This is just a bad dream," he muttered, still shaking slightly.

"Nigel Townsend! Don't talk of such rubbish. Dreams never feel like reality; you should know that. Of course this is happening! And I feel just as bad about it as you do. At least you have the chance to say good-bye; you didn't get that last time." He winced.

"I did. I said good-bye every night for those last nights. So if she didn't wake up in the morning..." His voice was soft, but sad. "And every morning that she did, we'd say hello again." He paused. "Until we didn't anymore." He felt like someone was squeezing his heart, compressing it into a tight little knot.

"Then fly back with me and do the same thing with your father. He'd really appreciate it. He's been asking for you; he wants you to be there when he..."

"He has you and Collin and Frankie," Nigel said, cutting her off, "I can't leave right now! I have responsibilities. I can't drop everything and go to him. I can't. Jordan is getting married, and I need to help her plan. People are always dying, they need me here at the morgue. Kate is having the baby soon, and in a month she'll be on bed rest and she'll need me to be there for her. And then the morgue'll need me more! I can't just pack up and leave anymore. I have responsibilities now." He stopped, panting slightly. Debbie looked taken aback, but was silent.

"Well," she said after a moment. "Well then. I um... I—" She paused, looking at him. "I'm sorry to hear that." She looked crestfallen.

"It's not that I don't want to see him, I do!" Nigel said quickly, not wanting her to think he didn't care, "It's just... Kate and the baby..." Debbie looked at him for a moment, looking deep in thought. "I can't just run off and leave her to do it all alone." Debbie's eyes widened as the implications of the previous sentence hit her.

"_You're_ the father of that lovely woman's baby!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide in shock, and her mouth hanging open slightly. Nigel nodded, looking glum. "Why hadn't you told us?! Your father will be so happy to have a grandchild before he passes! Your brother being how he is with women, and Frankie being only six, he thought he'd never get the chance... he'll be thrilled!"

"You can't tell him!" Nigel yelled in frustration. "He won't be thrilled, he'll be angry! I got a woman knocked up after being with her for less than a month! He'll disown me!" He paused. "But I suppose he can't, if he's in as bad a condition as you imply he's in."

"He won't disown you, silly! He loves you! No matter how much you fight with him, you've got to remember that. He felt awful the last time you guys argued... what was that about, anyway?"

"That was about..." Nigel paused, trying to remember. "That was about... him not telling me about Frankie."

"Isn't that the same thing you're doing now?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Have you and the mother of your child talked about this? Does Collin know? How long did you think you could keep the fact that you have a daughter quiet?" Debbie had her hands on her hips and looked quite cross.

"Sorry, Debbie."

"It's not me you should be apologising to! Fly back home with me, just for a day or two; tell him about the baby to his face. Apologise. And then, say good-bye, and come back here to start your family."

"I don't want to say good-bye!" Nigel yelled again, his voice cracking. "Not again."

"Then..." Debbie put her tiny arms around him again. "Why don't you say hello?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Called Out**

Eventually Kate was able to move again, looking around the morgue for the distraught father of her baby. She checked the Bullroom, Trace Evidence and then the crypt, where she found him. Debbie had her arms wrapped around him and was talking to him softly, murmuring things that Kate couldn't hear, and wasn't sure she wanted to. She just stood in the doorway for a minute, and when Debbie stopped talking and Nigel nodded, she figured they'd see her, but neither noticed her presence. Debbie patted him on the back comfortingly as he shook silently.

"Nigel?" Kate asked in a small voice, and he jumped.

"Kate." He didn't sound as sad; whatever Debbie had told him obviously had helped. "Hi." Debbie left the room discreetly to give the couple some privacy, giving Kate a small smile as she exited.

Nigel's knees wobbled and his head was spinning. "Hi," he repeated hesitantly, leaning slightly on the gurney with the covered corpse to steady himself somewhat. His eyes told her how much pain he was in.

"Are you okay? Are you going to fly over, or...?"

"No." His voice seemed detached; cold, even. Kate shivered involuntarily.

"No?"

"I can't just pack up and fly to England without you, and there is no way you're flying in your condition." He gestured to her stomach unnecessarily. Kate rolled her eyes at his excuse.

"You can't go because you can't take me with you?" He nodded. "So you'd rather stay here with me than see your dad one last time?" He paled. "Nigel, just go. I can be alone for a couple of days." She put her hands on her hips in the way he liked.

"You can't be by yourself...!" he protested.

"I'm not an invalid! Lily did the whole thing by herself, and I have everyone here, and Henry, if I need anything I can't do for myself." Kate cautiously approached him and put a hand on his arm. "I don't want you to regret not going while you have the chance. And I don't want you to resent me for keeping you here." His gaze softened.

"I won't resent you, Kate. I _want_ to be here. I don't want to miss anything important."

"I'll video-call you every day, I promise. I'll have Henry take pictures of me wherever you want. Just please go see your dad... if only because I'm asking you to." He frowned. "Please? For me?" She removed her hand from his arm and put both on his chest and looked up at him with her best puppy-dog eyes. He sighed. How could he resist that look?

"Fine, I guess," he finally agreed dejectedly. "But I expect a picture every day, and you'd better call or I'll go mad." Kate smiled.

"Thank you."

XXX

Woody tried Jordan's office phone again, but it seemed that she was still on the phone with that FBI Agent she hadn't told him about yet. It must have been something important they were talking about, because they had been talking for a good hour or so. He knew how long because he kept trying to call her— stalling, mostly, so he wouldn't have to call Father Paul. Sighing in defeat, he picked up the phone's receiver again and slowly dialled the number on the paper in front of him.

"_You've reached Paul's personal line. If this is business related, please try 555-372-4665. If it's not, leave a message. Bless you and have a nice day._" _Beep! _Woody sighed with relief. He was busy.

"Hi, Father, it's Woody Hoyt calling," he started, happy that he didn't have to talk to the priest directly, "Jordan and I have picked a date for the wedding and were hoping you'd be available— the thirtieth of this month? That's all.... if you can't attend just give us a call... I assume you have her number, still." He paused. "Bye." He hung up just as the phone beeped to tell him his message time was up.

Well, that wasn't as awful as he had predicted. He was still alive. Woody sighed and leaned back in his chair. It was not the 'funky' green and orange one Jordan had forbidden him from keeping after he asked her opinion of it, but a much more comfortable black leather one he bought on Kijiji. It went better with the decor in his office, anyway, even if it wasn't as much of a conversation piece.

He still couldn't believe that Jordan had agreed to get Married, let alone in less than a month. He barely believed that Max had approved of him proposing in the first place. The fact that she had said yes still blew his mind, and the fact that they were living together threw it for a loop. He was just so happy these days, since she had become herself again, he couldn't stop smiling.

Then again, there were these mysterious phone calls from the FBI. Where were they in their investigation? Had they found James? Woody shook his head. He thought the FBI would work harder to find a serial killer. And that was what James was: a killer. Garret had filled him in. Several bodies had piled up on James' tab while he was searching for the answers to Emily Cavanaugh's murder. Who knows how many victims he'd had?

And yet Jordan still cared about him. Every once and a while someone would say something; Garret would say that he '_wished he'd caught the bastard sooner_' or Lily would say that he was mentally unstable, or Nigel would assure her that they'd catch him soon; and it would get Jordan going again. Not angry, but indifferent again. Broken. She'd put up that wall, but sometimes, if he was looking at her when they said such things, he'd see another emotion cross her face: worry. She was worrying about him. He knew the feeling: he always worried about Cal before he moved to Boston and became stable, as he was now. He worried that Cal would get high or drunk and try to drive... and hurt himself, or someone else in the process. He worried that Cal would get a bad batch of drugs and overdose or take something that was laced. He worried that Cal would forget to pay or piss off the wrong person and get himself killed... he was glad not to have to worry about those things anymore.

Woody licked his lips and grabbed a file off his desk. As he started on paperwork that was long overdue he thought about calling Jordan again and decided against it. She was probably still on the phone with the FBI. In the back of his mind that nagged at him— who was she talking to and why?

XXX

"_So you're really going to marry Hoyt, huh? So soon? Are you sure he's the 'One?'_" Jordan laughed.

"I'm sure, _Agent Taylor_. I've told you twice already! Are you sure Ellen is the 'One?' You're marrying her, right?"

"_That's different._"

"Why?"

"_Because you're my little sister, and I'm just trying to protect you._" He paused. "_I love Ellen, Jordan. I think she is my 'One.' We've been together forever, and she'd always to patient with my flaws, you know? Is Hoyt like that for you? Would he wait for you forever?_"

"He's been waiting for years, already. God, the man's a saint for putting up with me as long as he has! Believe me, Ja— _Agent Taylor_, he's sticking around. I don't need protecting."

"_Right. Would you freak out if I asked you how you would feel about having a niece or nephew?_"

Jordan froze. "Is Ellen pregnant?" she whispered. "Is that why you're marrying her?"

"_Naw. We're just thinking about it. What d'you think?_"

"You're asking me what _I _think? Ja— _Agent Taylor_, if you want to have kids, why is it my business? You don't need to ask _permission_!"

"_I wasn't asking for your permission. I was just wondering what you thought about it. What about you and Hoyt? Aren't you thinking about it? I mean, Ellen's seven years younger than I am, and she's feeling the heat of the ol' biological clock... and you're a year older than she is. You must have thought about it. And if Woody is anything like you've described him to be, he'll probably want a little leaguer of his own to play baseball with sooner or later, right?_" Jordan was silent. "_What? Did I hit a nerve?_"

"Well, kinda, yeah!"

"_Because he wants rugrats and you don't, or the other way around?_"

"I know Woody wants kids. I think I want kids. I don't know. I'd probably end up killing them. I forget to feed my fish unless Woody reminds me. I can't keep a plant alive, let alone a baby! It was different when I was going to adopt Kayla."

"_You were going to adopt? As in, a child?_"

"Yes, but she was thirteen. She could feed herself, and dress herself, and was at school most of the time. It was different. If I had a baby— he or she would be dependent on me, twenty-four/seven. Do you really think I could handle that?"

"_Hoyt would help you, wouldn't he? You're marrying the guy. He wouldn't forget to feed him or her, or change their diaper. Jordan, do you want kids, or not? 'Cause you've just been avoiding the question._"

"How did we end up switching topics like that? One minute we're talking about weddings, then next thing you know you're asking me if I want kids. Isn't it weird how conversations do that?"

"_A-V-O-I-D-I-N-G. Avoiding._"

"I am not!"

"_D-E-N-I-A-L. Denial._"

"Are you training for a spelling bee or something?"

"_No, I just thought it would annoy you._" Jordan groaned.

"James!"

"_I thought you were going to call me 'Agent Taylor' in case your phone is bugged._"

"I didn't say that my phone might be bugged, I _said _that if someone walked into my office—"

"_You haven't talked about it, have you?_" Jordan bit her lip. "_Thought so. You know, you might want to bring up the baby topic before you marry him. Just a thought._" Jordan sighed and leaned back in her chair further, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe I am avoiding it."

"_Well, yeah, Jordan, I've kinda been saying that for ten minutes. The point is: are you going to have kids, or not?_"

"All of my best friends have kids. Garret has Abby, Kate's having Erin in a month, Lily has Madeleine... I suppose procreation is kind of inevitable, right? I suppose we could compromise and have one kid, rather than two-point-five or whatever... that's reasonable, right?"

"_No one is forcing you into anything. Ellen and I are still talking about it— no decision has been made, yet. And you don't have to decide in an hour, or a day, or a week. It might take you a year before you're sure. I just thought I'd make you think about it. Otherwise, the question might go on unanswered forever, knowing you._" That earned him another eye-roll.

"What if you have just succeeded in driving me crazy? What if that's _all_ I think about now?"

"_It's not. You think about work, and the wedding, and your pregnant friend, and your friend with the toddler—_"

"Okay, I get it! Jeez, you can be such a baby sometimes." James chuckled.

"_Touché._"


	25. Chapter 25

_Okay, so I'm kind of not a Catholic— not sure what I am, to be honest... I was never raised with any religion... anyway. I used Wikipedia and what I've learned on TV to describe both the church, and how the confessional went (you'll understand what I mean when you read this chapter), so if I get anything majorly wrong, I apologise. Tell me and I'll try to fix it. _

_And sorry about how off-topic this chapter goes, too! It's a little different than my usual stuff, centering around Adriana, an OC. But I need us to get to know her a little more before I give her a real plot, right? So.... yeah._

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Assumptions**

Adriana stopped dead in her tracks, hand raised to knock on Dr. Cavanaugh's office door. She heard her colleague's voice; she was on the phone, or in the middle of a meeting. She lowered her hand and looked at the file held under the opposite arm. She supposed that the file could wait. She turned to go, but what startled when she heard Jordan, "_Well, kinda, yeah!_" loudly through the door.

She froze. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, it just sort of... happened. She deduced from what she heard of the conversation (Jordan's half, that is) that they were talking about having children. She was listening to a very private conversation! And yet she couldn't make her feet move. She knew as well as everyone else that Jordan was marrying Detective Hoyt; and she figured that was who she was talking to until she heard her exclaim, "_James!_" in a scolding manner.

She listened for another half a minute before turning around and walking as fast as her feet could carry her back to her desk. Luckily for her, neither Bug nor Nigel was in the Bullroom to see her slam the file noisily down on her desk and flop into her chair, eyes wide with worry and guilt.

She'd missed a lot of the conversation, but had picked up on several key words; '_pregnant_,' '_avoiding_,' '_procreation_' and '_inevitable_' being ones she was sure of. She also knew that Jordan was talking to someone named James.

"Oh. My. God!" she said rather loudly as she came to her own conclusions on what was being talked about over the phone in Dr. Cavanaugh's office. There was only one conclusion that someone could come to! Jordan was pregnant... and it wasn't Detective Hoyt's baby!

And so Adriana was cursed with the secret. An hour later (after three cups of coffee, two rationalizations and a lengthy argument with herself in her head) Adriana finally felt brave enough to bring the file (an autopsy report she needed Dr. Cavanaugh to look over for her) back to Jordan's office. She knocked politely and entered, handed her the file and asked if Jordan could read it over for her.

"Yeah, sure," Jordan agreed, giving Adriana a small smile. Adriana did not smile back. She just turned on her heel and left stoically, trying her hardest not to blurt out that she knew that Jordan had been unfaithful and was paying the price.

She was breathing hard when she got back to her desk, and was nearly in tears. She had never been good at keeping secrets; and this was not an easy one to keep! Adultery... she shuddered. One of the Ten Commandments had been broken by her colleague. She was raised a Catholic, and though she was not as religious as her parents, she still agreed with the Ten. Some things were old fashioned, but cheating on one's spouse was one thing she found absolutely unacceptable. And cheating on one's spouse-to-be was just... honestly, it was cruel.

She'd met Detective Hoyt in passing. She didn't know him well, but had heard that he was a kind man and a caring one. He was good-looking and had beautiful dimples when he smiled. He strived for justice, and always closed his cases. Why would anyone jeopardise marrying such a good man? Jordan had never seemed like the type to do such a thing; but Adriana didn't know her all that well.

Bug's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Are you alright, Dree?" He used the affectionate nickname he used to use when they were kids and he babysat for her and she was upset. Adriana looked up at him, wide-eyed, but close-lipped. She was afraid of accidently letting the secret slip out.

He sighed, and gave her an apologetic look. "Come, Dree... it's nothing to be ashamed of. It all happens to us sooner or later— well, technically at the same time, but— never mind." She had no idea what he was talking about. "When _I_ turned thirty, I felt like my life was over..."

Of course! Her birthday. Of course Mahesh still remembered that her birthday was tomorrow, even after all these years, and even though she herself had almost forgotten. Thirty! She wasn't afraid to turn thirty. It was just another chapter to her life to begin. He obviously thought she was upset about her age.

He was still talking. "But, really... some of the best things happen after you turn thirty! I met Lily when I was thirty. It's not the end of being a twenty-something... it's the beginning of being a more knowledgeable and mature person." She nodded, attempting a smile.

Seemingly satisfied with his comforting of her, Bug went to his desk and pulled a clear container of annelid-like creatures squirming around their damp prison out of his desk drawer. She got up from her desk and quickly wrote a note that she was going out to lunch— she hadn't taken hers yet— and left the Bullroom. She slipped the note under Dr. Macy's door and left the morgue in a hurry, not stopping to say hello to Emmy or Lily as she passed them.

She went to the garage and got in her car, then proceeded to drive around the still slightly unfamiliar city until she found herself outside a church. _Perfect_, she thought, wondering why her aimless driving had led her here. She debated whether or not to go inside; the place look friendly, so she pulled into a parking space and put a couple quarters in the meter.

She sighed, walking into the nearly-empty church. There was a man in the back right corner, his head bent forward as he muttered words of prayer. She was past him silently, then hovered by the front pew uncertainly. She was once again startled by a voice addressing her.

"You look lost," said the friendly voice. She turned around and saw the man speaking. He was a priest, older than her by a few years, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a small smile, and laugh lines in the corners of his eyes that made him look kind, but wise.

"I..." Adriana paused. "I don't come here, I'm sorry, I just... I had no other place to go." Her voice sounded feeble to her own ears. Sad, and worried, and pained. The priest nodded.

"That's alright." He smiled at her warmly. "Our doors are always open to newcomers." He gestured to a confessional. "Do you wish me to lend you my ear?" Adriana nodded eagerly. She really needed to get her secret off her chest.

She got into the confessional and kneeled, head bowed slightly. The priest opened the little slider so that there was only screen between them. Adriana sighed.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," she started, letting the words come naturally. "I eavesdropped on a private conversation by accident today. I didn't mean to overhear, but what I learned was awful— and hard to keep to myself. But I don't want to spread rumours or tell anyone my friend's secret, but I fear I may have to lie to people I love and respect in order to keep it."

"Eavesdropping is never a good idea," sighed the priest, "It only makes the heart heavy and never does much good to anyone. Tell me, what did you overhear that was so horrible that you felt the need to come to a church?"

"A friend of mine is getting married, and I heard her talking to a man on the phone that was not her fiancé. They were talking about... I mean, I think..." Adriana paused. "I heard some things that lead me to the conclusion that my friend might be pregnant... and that her fiancé is not the father."

"You believe that your friend has committed adultery, and you feel guilty about knowing this?"

"Yes, Father. I don't want to lie to protect it, but I know that my friend's fiancé is a good man, and I feel horrible. I practically lied to my best friend, too, by letting him think that I was upset about my birthday tomorrow, because I'm turning thirty. I didn't actually say that, but I still feel badly about it."

"You can't be sure that what you overheard was the truth, but even if it was, you have no obligation to lie for your friend. If you feel that strongly over it, I suggest you talk to her."

"Yes, Father." This priest was a lot more easy-going than most she had met. He didn't tell her to say ten Hail Mary's and ten Our Father's as another priest would. He was actually thinking about her problem.

"God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," recited the priest. He paused for a moment before saying, "Though I'm not sure you actually committed one. You didn't actually lie to your friend, and as far as I'm aware, eavesdropping isn't a sin unless it was intentionally violating the privacy and trust of another person." He paused again. "I never really thought about it."

Adriana almost felt like laughing. Never before had she met a priest who was so easy-going. She felt nice talking to him, and wasn't sure she had even committed a sin anymore. If a priest said your sin might not even be a sin, why should you think that your sin was a sin?

"Uh... thank you, Father." She smiled, feeling much better about the whole thing after having talked about it with someone. "I should really have talked to my friend when I found out what I found out. I may have been mistaken, too, since I only heard one side of the conversation— I appreciate you taking me when I don't even belong to this church."

"No problem at all, ma'am. St. Inez welcomes all who seek guidance."

"You know, I like it here. Maybe I'll come back on Sunday."

"I'll keep a look out for your face in the crowd."

The priest even walked her to her car. She smiled and waved good-bye, then drove back to the morgue, feeling much, much better. All she really needed was to talk about it, get it off her chest. Sighing, she parked and entered the building, ready to get back to work.

In the hallway, she passed Nigel who smiled and winked at her as he always did. She found out soon enough not to be offended or think he was up to something; Bug had told her that was just his way of saying hello. She scurried off to her desk and he entered Dr. Macy's office.

"Dr. M., I need some time off," Nigel said, closing the door behind him. Garret looked up from his paperwork and took off his reading glasses. "You see, I need to fly to England... can I take a week?"

"Why do you need to fly to England?"

"My father's dying." Garret's eyes softened, and he gave Nigel a sympathetic look. "It's cancer. He wants me to say good-bye. Plus I need to tell him and my brother about Kate, and it'd be a good idea to do that in person..."

"Sure. Take as long as you need, Nigel," Garret interrupted, "But I expect all your paperwork to be up-to-date when you get back." He said the last part jokingly, while still keeping the kindness in his voice as best as he could. Nigel nodded, grinning.

"Thanks, Dr. M." He stopped then bit his lip. "I really appreciate it."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Realisations**

Adriana's heart thudded in her chest. Woody Hoyt was standing not _ten feet away_, talking to Bug. Apparently they had a case together. Apparently he was around the morgue a lot more than she thought. Apparently her conscious hadn't been cleared by talking to the priest.

The first thing Adriana had done once she got her thoughts in order was try to talk to Jordan. But she was out on a call, and wasn't around to chat. So she sat at her desk, biting her already short nails (having been bitten down to stubs from the evil nervous habit), and trying not to freak out when the blue-eyed detective walked within feet of her to Bug's desk.

She would not blurt it out. She would not blurt it out! She would _not_ blurt it out! Oh, who was she kidding? She sucked at keeping secrets.

"Dr. Rodriguez, are you alright?" Oh God. That was Woody Hoyt's voice. He was asking her a question. She would have to open her mouth to answer it. But that wasn't an option.

Adriana nodded numbly and turned back to the blank piece of paper in front of her. She really needed to stop thinking about this and start working. Hoyt turned back to Bug, perplexed.

"What's up with her?"

"She's turning thirty and is upset. Dree, I _told_ you, it's not a big deal..." Great, now Bug was trying to comfort her again. She groaned internally.

"I'm fine," she squeaked, trying to open her mouth as little as possible. "Just... got a bit of a sore throat." Bug got up from his chair and walked over to her, laying the back of his hand across her forehead.

"You know, you're a little warm... maybe you should go home. I'm sure Dr. Macy wouldn't mind if you took a sick-day." She shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"If you say so." Bug went back to Woody and started explaining something to do with a Papilionoidea Papilionidae that had something to do with their case. Adriana fiddled with her pencil and waiting patiently for them to leave the Bullroom. When they did, she sighed with relief, leaning back in her chair and covering her face with her hands. She needed to practice this whole 'lying' thing. She had never been good at it. She was surprised they had believed her.

"What am I going to _do_?" she moaned, rubbing her hands over her eyes.

"Are you alright, Adriana?" Adriana jumped internally, dropping her hands and opening her mouth. Jordan was standing in the doorway to the Bullroom beside Bug's bug-covered window, a pile of papers in her arms and a concerned look on her face.

"No," she admitted, "Not at _all_. We need to talk. _Privately_." Jordan looked confused, but followed Adriana when she jumped from her chair and stumbled down the hall. She opened the door to Jordan's office and flung herself onto the couch head-first, and Jordan closed the door and put down her reports on her desk.

"So..." she started, unsure what to do. She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked at the woman lying on her stomach on her couch, her hands locked together on top of her head. "What's up?"

"IknurscrtJrn," mumbled Adriana into the cushions, and Jordan rolled her eyes.

"Didn't catch that." Adriana sat up and rubbed her eyes, which were becoming red from all the attention.

"I know your secret, Jordan," she repeated quietly, staring at her black-and-white converse shoes. Jordan had no idea what she was talking about.

"What secret?"

"I know about your affair," she mumbled in a half-whisper. Jordan's jaw dropped a little, and she opened her mouth in shock. She must have heard wrong. She must have. There was no way this woman thought she would cheat on Woody. No way.

"_What?_"

Adriana looked up from her shoes and at Jordan's face. "I heard you on the phone with your lover. I'm sorry I eavesdropped; I shouldn't have."

"I don't know what you—"

"I know that you're pregnant with this man's child."

"What the _Hell _are you going on abou—"

"If you don't tell him, I will!" Adriana almost yelled with a burst of unexpected courage. She was not going to let the nice Woody Hoyt not know about this for much longer. He deserved to know.

"Tell who what?!" Jordan yelled back, confused and angry. Her temper flared— why was Adriana yelling at her? She hadn't done anything wrong!

"I know about James!" Jordan fell silent, her mouth forming a small 'oh.' She didn't yell back. She stared at Adriana, not comprehending. What did she know about James? How did she know?

_Cover blown! Abort! Abort! Abandon ship!!_ She didn't say a word, though her mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish gasping at air. _ABORT, GODDAMNIT! SAY SOMETHING, YOU FREAK! SET HER STRAIGHT!! YOU HAVE _**NOT**_BEEN IN CONTACT WITH JAMES HORTON. SHE IS MISTAKEN. TELL HER SOMETHING! LIE, JORDAN, GODDAMNIT!_ Her brain was somehow screaming this, yet completely blank at the same time.

"I know that you're pregnant with James's child."

Jordan's brain resurfaced and she burst about laughing at the absurdity of that statement. It was Adriana's turn to stare at her, awestruck. What was funny? She didn't understand.

"God, you think I'm...? Oh, my _God_... you think I..." she gasped through her laughter, tears in her eyes, "You think me... and _James?!_" She slowly controlled her breathing, then looked at the horrified and very, very baffled Adriana Rodriguez.

"I don't understand."

"James isn't my _lover_," laughed Jordan, still panting slightly from her outburst, "He's my _brother!_" Adriana's mouth fell open.

"You're screwing your brother?!" Adriana squealed, disgusted.

"No! No, not even close!" Adriana sighed with relief. "And I'm not pregnant. God, you thought I was _pregnant!_" Jordan laughed again. "What could ever, _ever_ make you draw that conclusion?"

"I just... I thought I heard..." she blubbered, feeling stupid. She had heard certain words, and she had drawn a _very _wrong conclusion. She heard a man's name, and assumed Jordan was having an affair. She heard the word 'pregnant' and assumed that Jordan was. "I'm so sorry! I thought James was— I mean, I never— I'm sorry, Dr. Cavanaugh." Adriana blushed bright red. How could she have thought Jordan could do such a thing?

Jordan moved forward a put a comforting hand on her arm. She looked really torn up. Her eyes were wide and red as she looked up at Jordan, then smiled. "Your brother? I really messed up, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, kinda." She patted her arm, smiling too. "We all mess up sometimes, though. I'm just glad you didn't tell Woody I was pregnant by James. He would have had a heart attack." Adriana laughed.

"Yes, I guess he would." A thought struck her. "Wait, is James your psycho brother? The one Emmy goes on about?" Jordan cocked an eyebrow.

"Emmy talks about my brother?" Adriana nodded.

"She said he was a serial killer or something. She's a real gossip. She was exaggerating... wasn't she?" Jordan bit her lip, and Adriana's hand flew to her mouth. "She wasn't?" she whispered through her fingers.

"Not really. He's not 'psycho,' but he has... hurt... a few people..." Jordan trailed off. "Please don't tell anyone that I've talked to him." She looked into Adriana's blue eyes, worry causing hers to darken. "They'll think I know where he is, but I don't. He just likes to know I'm alright, so he checks up on me. But I don't know where he is." Adriana didn't say a word. Her mind was reeling. It was a lot to process. "You can keep a secret, right, Adriana?" Her words were longing and anxious sounding. Adriana sighed.

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Jordan was relieved. Adriana was worried. Life sometimes sucks.

XXX

Nigel opened the door to his flat. He was barely back there, anymore. He'd spent most nights at Kate's since they'd found out she was expecting, and he really only came home to grab more clothes. Since Kate had cleared out space for him in her closet and started doing his laundry with hers, he hadn't been home in weeks. The place felt empty and unfamiliar.

He tossed his keys in the little bowl on the table beside the door, took off his leather coat and flung it in the direction of his black-leather sofa. It missed, landing on the floor two feet from it. He was really off his game.

He got his duffel bag out of his tiny closet and dumped its contents on his bed; hockey equipment that smelled like it needed to be burned, rather than washed. He hadn't played in ages. They'd probably been sitting in there for months, increasing their stink.

He opened his nearly-empty top drawer and stuffed the four pairs of boxer shorts and two pairs of socks that were in it into the duffel. He cleaned out the next drawer, which contained two band t-shirts and a long-sleeve, and the next, a couple pairs of jeans. All his stuff was at Kate's, he realised. He thought he had more at his place; enough for a week or two. He's have to pack some stuff over there before his week-long trip. Seven days. Just seven days he'd have to spend away from the love of his live and his unborn child. Seven. It already sounded like an eternity.

He zipped up the half-filled bag and threw it over his shoulder, carrying it to the door and dumping it on the floor. He was much more cleanly at Kate's house. He liked to keep it clean for her. Here, he felt no need.

He opened the refrigerator and winced as the stale aroma attacked his nostrils. He pulled out an open carton of milk and took a sniff— and gagged. Yep, that was defidently the offender. It had been sitting open in his fridge for so long it had gone bad. Yuck.

After pouring the milk, which was more solid than liquid, down the sink and throwing out the carton, he grabbed himself a rootbeer from the fridge and flopped down on his sofa. He yawned, then turned on the television. It was on the history channel; the way he usually left it.

His father was dying. Dying! From cancer. Debbie hadn't specified a type... just 'cancer.' His mother's had been leukemia. He wondered if his father could be so unlucky to get the same kind.

He sighed and downed the rest of the rootbeer, tossing the can over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. He missed, and the can bounced off the side, landing on the floor. He didn't even bother to pick it up.

He ran his hands through his hair and groaned, scratching at his scalp. He felt _wrong_, for some reason. Everything was happening so fast; the baby, Jordan's wedding, now his dad... it was like the world was besieging his heart from all sides all at once. God had a cruel sense of humour.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he flipped it open. "Townsend."

"_Nigel, have you packed yet? Your flight leaves in three hours._"

"Uh, no. I'll have to grab some stuff from your place; mine's kind of... empty." He chuckled. "I'll be home in a jiffy."

"Okay. See you."

"Bye." He hung up the phone and sighed, standing and stretching his back muscles. Three hours until his flight left. A six hour flight to Dublin. Another hour flight to London. In ten hours, he could see his dad. Ten hours. Ten... Bloody... hours. Ten hours before he had to tell his dad he'd knocked up his girlfriend. Ten hours until he had to see his father, lying sick in a hospital bed. Ten hours until he had to put on a strong face. Ten. Bloody. Hours.

Nigel sighed, picked up his jacket and put it on, grabbed his duffel bag and took one last look around his tiny, empty flat. He flipped the light switch, and the apartment went dark.


	27. Chapter 27

_Sorry about the lateness of this... seems there was a glitch on the site, and I haven't been able to log in for a couple of days. Anyway, here it is... If my British slang is way off... well, I don't feel like fixing it, so you guys will just have to deal. I tried my best, from what I've heard people on TV say, and from my Grandma Mary, who's from England._

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Welcome to London**

The seatbelt sign overhead began to flash red, and Nigel quickly did his up as the Captain said over the intercom, "_We will be landing in five minutes, folks. Welcome to London._" Oh, what an awful plane ride! With every little bump of turbulence he would jump, floundering for the emergency button to release the gas masks, thanks to his last plane experience. The other people on the plane were regarding him with either mild annoyance or amusement. The flight attendant was wary of him. He was glad he probably wouldn't see any of them ever again; he'd done enough to embarrass himself that they'd probably remember him. At least he'd gotten a few hours sleep while the ride was calm.

The plane landed pretty smoothly, not smooth enough for jumpy Nigel, but smoothly all the same. He collected his bags once he was off the plane and caught a cab outside the London City Airport.

"Where to, Mate?" asked the driver after tossing Nigel's duffel in the back.

Nigel took a piece of paper out of his pocket and fumbled with it, almost tearing it as his hands shook trying to unfold it. "Uh... Ten Beryl Avenue, Newham," he read to the driver, who tilted his hat and got into the driver's seat.

"So, where ya from?"

"Here. Well, not lately..." Nigel grinned. "Lately I've been in Boston."

"Huh. Must've bin there a long time, eh? Wouldn't guess you were from 'round here." Nigel titled his head to one side.

"Why not?"

"You've got a funny accent. I thought you might be from Dublin or somethin'." Nigel's eyebrows shot up.

"Funny accent?"

"Yeah, Mate. Kind of British, but not _really_. Like it's faded, or somethin'. Must've been over the pond for a real long time to start talkin' like a Yank." Nigel was about to protest when the car jolted to a stop. "This is your stop." Nigel bit his tongue and paid the cabbie, hopped out and grabbed his bag from the trunk.

Still wondering why the guy said his accent had changed (he was _sure_ it hadn't) Nigel hoisted his bag over his shoulder and walked up the front steps to his brother's front door. He knocked, and Collin answered, already grinning from ear to ear.

"Nigel!"

"Collin!" The brothers embraced, and Collin took Nigel's bag and carried it inside. Anyone would be able to see the family resemblance; they had the same face shape, nose, dark eyes and hair. Collin had cut his hair shorter than the last time he had seen him, so instead of being long and wild it was now a loose shaggy cut that barely hit the top of his folded-up collar.

"Dad's actually out of the hospital, now, so we can drop by his place in a mo'." Nigel nodded and followed his brother into his home, up the stairs and into the guest room. The walls were bright blue and the comforter red— Nigel chuckled. It was just like his brother; bold and uncontrollable. "Here ya go," Collin said with a laugh, tossing Nigel's bag on the bed. "So, how long're you staying?"

"A week, at the most." Collin looked disappointed.

"Really? That's too bad. Why only a week?" Nigel wondered if this maybe was not the right time to blurt out the reason.

"That's something I should tell dad and you together," Nigel said finally, and Collin shrugged.

"Sure," Collin murmured. "Come on, let's go. So, how's life been treating you?"

"Well, thanks. You?"

"Good. I mean, other than the rubbish with Dad. I was teaching Frankie how to play football, but he kept missing the thing." He chuckled. "He kicked about a dozen holes in the grass. It was hilarious." He sighed. "Dad kind of wished you were there when he was born. He's a good kid. Can't wait to meet you."

"Oh, yeah?" Nigel got in his brother's car and did up his seatbelt. It was a little odd, sitting where the driver's seat should be, but wasn't. It was something he'd have to get re-used to. "And... how's Dad?" Collin bit his lip.

"Not well. He's in some clinical trial on a new cancer treatment, but Debbie thinks it's a little late for that. He's been sick for ages, but never bothered to go see a doctor. He was convinced he just had the lurgy."

Nigel searched his mind for the meaning of 'lurgy.' He'd been away so long that even the slang here felt unfamiliar. 'Lurgy' meant 'flu,' of course, but it took him a moment to think it through.

"Ah."

The occupants of the car were silent as they picked their way through downtown London. The traffic was awful, and it took them nearly half an hour to get to their father's house. It was large and brick with a little flower garden out front. It was completely foreign-looking to Nigel, even though it was the same house he had grown up in.

There hadn't been a garden when he last saw the house. Not since his mother had died. Debbie must have a green thumb. The fence out front had been painted, and some of the more rotten parts had been replaced. The windows were blacked out by cream curtains; what had Debbie done to his father's house? It wasn't nearly as run-down as expected.

Collin parked on the side of the road and cut the engine. "Try not to start a row, if possible, Nige," he cautioned, "He may be ill, but believe me— he's still Dad, and he's still got enough will to fight back." He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I'd go easy on him, if I were you, though." He paused. "We've all missed you."

Nigel grinned sheepishly. "I've been missing you, and home, too."

"Then why don't you come back?" His smile faltered.

"I can't. I have a life there." Collin sighed.

"You missed Frankie's birth, his first steps, Dad's wedding... it just seems like you're not a big part anymore, and I miss that about you. You were _always_ a big part."

"You'll understand why I can't be a big part here anymore once I explain everything. But I want Dad to hear it, so..." He gestured to the house.

"Right. Come on, then." Collin got out of the car and walked up the front steps. Nigel followed.

"Deb! We're here!" Collin called into the house, opening the door and just walking in like he owned the place. Nigel's eyes widened. His father must have really changed a lot in order for that kind of behaviour to be acceptable in his house.

"Collin, dear, Louis is in his room. Nigel! You've arrived!" Debbie flung herself at him and gave him a hug, then stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He smiled.

"Debbie," he greeted.

"Nigel, your father is in his bedroom— up the stairs, second door on the left. You go ahead, I'll make tea," she announced, dashing off to the kitchen. Collin showed him where to hang his coat, as if he wouldn't remember, then gestured to the staircase.

"Go on! I'll be up in a few minutes after I help Deb with the tea. You go catch up with Dad." He too walked off to the kitchen.

Nigel stood in the foyer with mixed emotions. He climbed the staircase slowly, hoping that by the time he reached the top Debbie and Collin would be done making tea and be there to go in with him. He wasn't that lucky. He raised his hand shakily, took a deep breath, and knocked on the wooden door.


	28. Chapter 28

_I'M SORRY, BELLE, THAT I COULDN'T GET THIS OUT ON YOUR BIRTHDAY LIKE I PROMISED. I didn't have the ending the way I wanted it yesterday, and I had to go to bed at eleven. ...PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. I know I said I'd have another chapter finished for the 28__th__, but it's not like it's all that late... :) Forgive me? And __**HAPPY FIFTEENTH BIRTHDAY, BELLE!**__ (Even if it was yesterday.) Thank you for helping me figure out the (odd) format for this chapter._

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reaction**

**Nigel Townsend has just signed in.**

**Kate: So, how did it go?**

**Nigel: Better than I thought it would.**

He ran a hand through his long hair and sighed, leaning back against his bed's headboard at Collin's house.

**Kate: And...?**

**Nigel: Well, when I got there, Collin and Debbie went off to make tea, so I had to confront him by myself... but it wasn't so awful...**

_"Come in!" Nigel heard his father's gravelly voice drift through the wood. He took another deep breath and opened the door a crack, putting his head around it._

_"Hi," he whispered, and William Townsend looked up from the newspaper he had in front of him. _

_He was lying dressed in plaid pyjamas on the bed, with his feet crossed at the ankles. Nigel, being observant, noticed that he was reading the funnies, which was out of character for his father. But he had the same stern expression that Nigel remembered fondly from his childhood, his eyebrows creased together and his laugh-lines nonexistent since the death of his first wife._

_"Nigel!" he barked, his voice sounding gruffer than it once had been. He put down the paper and motioned to a chair by the bed, his eyes softening. Nigel closed the door behind him and half scurried to the chair, his hands shaking a little. His father looked wiser than the last time he had seen him, and his soft gaze was disconcerting. "Thank you for flying over."_

_"It's, err, no problem, really," Nigel said, fidgeting a little in his seat. "I'm sorry I haven't been around..."_

_"I get that you've made a life for yourself, Nigel," William grunted, "And that comin' down just to watch me die isn't exactly in your sched... sched... schedule." He coughed violently, and Nigel winced, remembering how his mother had been the same way before her death._

_"What..." Nigel's breath caught, and he had to force the words out, "What kind... of cancer...?" William's coughing subsided and his gave his eldest son a sideways look._

_"Lung, stage four." Nigel bit his lip._

_"Dad... I don't want to say good-bye," he squeaked, realising that this week might be his last with his father. _

_"Neither do I, but eventually, we all fall down," sighed his father, "I'm just glad I got to live such a full life. I had two wonderful wives, even if one was taken from me." He touched Nigel's cheek gently. "And I had three beautiful sons, all of whom I'm so proud of." _

_Nigel's lip trembled. His father had just said he was proud of him. How was he supposed to tell him how irresponsible he'd been, even if it lead to something as wonderful as he and Kate having Erin?_

**Kate: So you didn't tell him?!**

**Nigel: No, no! I told him. Hold your horses!**

_He opened his mouth, but found he had nothing to say. Luckily, he was saved by his brother opening the door and waltzing in with Debbie, bearing tea and sandwiches._

_Debbie pulled up more chairs around the bed that he previously been lining the walls, as if they anticipated having multiple people in the room. Collin set the tray down at the end of the bed and wordlessly prepared Debbie and William's tea, as well as his own._

_"What d'you take in your tea, Nige?" Nigel snapped out of the sort of trance he had been in and looked at his brother._

_"Uh..." He hadn't had tea in a while, but he supposed he still liked it black. "Nothing, just tea." Collin chuckled and handed Nigel a cup and saucer, which were white with a floral pattern on them. Floral! What had Debbie done to his hard-ass father to make him except floral _anything_ in his home?_

_"So, wince we're all here now... why are you only staying for a week?" Collin questioned as soon as everyone was settled with their tea. William's eyes bored into him._

_"You're only staying a week?"_

_"Yeah... I have some, err, new responsibilities back home... I mean, in Boston... and I can't leave them for a long period of time." Debbie glared at him, and Collin looked impatient._

_"Alright, Nigel, stop beatin' around the bush. Out with it!"_

_"Go ahead, dear," Debbie urged._

_"My girlfriend, Kate is... well..." He bit his lip again. "She's pregnant."_

**Kate: Took you long enough.**

Nigel groaned out loud and rolled his eyes at the web-cam so Kate could see.

**Nigel: I was nervous!!!**

**Kate: How'd they take it?**

**Nigel: Well...**

_Collin was absolutely shocked. He was staring at Nigel, open-mouthed, with his cup of tea paused halfway between his saucer and his lips. Debbie smiled, having already known, and William... looked like he didn't believe a word._

_"Ha-ha, very funny," he deadpanned. Nigel and Debbie both frowned. "Cute, though, trying to make me happy before I die. Nice one." Debbie rolled her eyes at her husband._

_"William, sweetie, I met the girl while I was over there in Boston," Debbie said half-sternly, "She's as round as a beach ball." Collin slowly put down his teacup and closed his mouth._

_"But..." He paused, looking at his brother with a funny expression on his face. "You're the responsible one!" He turned to Debbie. "I thought _I_ was the one who was going to screw up and... you know..."_

_"Accidents happen to everyone, Collin, even responsible people," Debbie soothed, patting him on the knee. William's eyebrows pushed together, meeting in the middle of his wrinkled forehead._

_"So... I'm really going to be a grandfather?" Nigel nodded._

_"Yep." _

_"Any chance she could have it soon so I can see pictures?" Nigel chuckled._

_"She's seven and a half months along, so you'll have to hold on a little longer, Dad." William's lips pursed._

_"Seven and a half? And you're only telling us now?" _

_"I thought you'd be angry with me," he explained shakily, "You always said an irresponsible man was a fool, and you'd not have fools for sons." He paused. "That's why you were so mad when I quit the Navy, and when Collin started being how he is."_

_"Apparently I'm not as bad as you, Nige," corrected Collin with the Townsend smile and wink, "Knocking up this girl we haven't heard about until now."_

_"Yeah, but at least I love her," Nigel pointed out, "And I'm going to be there for her and the baby... no matter what." He looked at his father. "That's why I can't stay too long. I have to be there for her. I wouldn't have even come if she hadn't convinced me to."_

_William tilted his head to one side. "I think I'm starting to like this girl." He said, smiling ever so slightly, "What was her name again?"_

_"Kate. Katherine Switzer, but she goes by Kate." William nodded vaguely._

_"You know the gender yet?"_

_Nigel nodded. "It's a girl. We've already got a name picked out, and we're almost done the nursery." He swallowed. "We're naming her Erin." William's eyes widened a little. "Erin Grace."_

**Kate: Was he happy? Don't stop there!!**

**Nigel: Have you figured out how to install your mic yet so I can video call you?**

**Kate: Nope. I'll get Sydney to show me at work today. I've got an afternoon shift, so...**

Nigel smiled. At least he'd be able to talk to her later that day without having a humongous phone bill when he got back. The grainy, laggy web-cam feed had much to be desired. But seeing her smile, and knowing that it was live and he was seeing her almost halfway around the world... it was enough to make him grin.

**Nigel: OK. **

**Kate: Now, tell me what happened next!!**

_Collin smiled broadly. William's left eye twitched, just like it did whenever someone mentioned his first wife. Debbie nodded. Nigel's stomach churned. There were a lot of different emotions in that room._

_"After Mom?" Collin asked, and Nigel resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his always-pointing-out-the-obvious brother. "That is... wow." Debbie smiled a little._

_"I think it's a beautiful name," she encouraged, looking toward Nigel's father, who still hadn't said a word. "William?" William looked up at her, his eye twitching having subsided._

_"I..." He faltered. "I don't know what to say," he said finally, "Except... I'm sure she would have been so proud of you, Nigel."_

_"For what? Getting my girlfriend pregnant on our first date?" _

_"_First date?_" mouthed Collin, looking amused. Nigel rolled his eyes._

_"No," said William, "For owning up. For telling me. You could have easily refused to come and not told me I was going to be a grandfather, a dream I long ago gave up because of Collin and your rather... promiscuous ways. Well, that, and for your obvious dedication to take care of this child."_

_Nigel smiled. "I haven't met her yet, and I already love her more than anything," he admitted. "She was an accident, and yet I can't help but think it's... fate, or something. Is that stupid?"_

_"No, Nigel," said William, putting a hand on his oldest son's shoulder, "That's the way it's supposed to feel."_

**Kate: Awwwwww.**

**Nigel: ... :)**


	29. Chapter 29

_Sorry this is coming so late! My birthday was on Friday, so I didn't have any time to write. And on Thursday I got my nose pierced as my birthday present from my mom, so I was in pain and couldn't write then either. And then yesterday my mom took me out shopping for post-birthday mother-daughter time, and today I was having father-daughter time with him and my step-mother, so I only barely got this out before I have to go to school in the morning. Be happy you didn't have to wait a week!!_

_Oh, and I must thank my awesome reviewers! I love you all, and your reviews feed my soul! –hugs- And I apologise if this is a fairly uneventful chapter, I'm running out of filler ideas between main plot points (which I kind of have planned in my head)._

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Three Days In**

"He's only been gone three days and I'm already depressed," Kate groaned, throwing her pen down. Lily looked up from her desk and regarded the blonde with mild interest.

"He'll be back next week, Kate. And it's normal to miss him." Kate rolled her eyes and shoved the papers on her desk off to the side. "I miss Bug if we're apart for a few _hours_, let alone a week! And you've got your baby to worry about."

Kate frowned. "I'm not supposed to miss him. You and Bug are still in the new-love lovey-dovey stage. Nigel and I basically skipped over that part. I have no right to want to take him away from his family when they need him."

"You need him too."

"I don't need him! I don't need anybody! I could do this on my own if I had to," Kate said defensively, crossing her arms. Lily gave her the 'shrink look.'

"But you don't, and you've become dependent on him."

"Well..." She paused. "Maybe a little. But I can't tell him that! It's just the little things that are weird without him here. Waking up in the morning without him there to say hello. Having to tell _myself_ not to drink coffee. Reminding _myself_ to eat healthy food for Erin. Having to put my own things in the laundry, or the dishwasher. I didn't realise how much he's been doing for me."

"Yeah, well, that's life, sometimes," Lily sighed, "I don't know how I lived without Bug, now. He's the best father any little girl could ask for, and he is the sweetest human being I've ever met. Love kind of makes you rely on each other. It stinks, but that's life." Kate nodded sullenly.

"Life sucks." She glanced at the clock. "Well, not that much. My shift is over in ten minutes." Lily smiled.

Kate stood and rearranged some things on her desk, then bent over to pick up her bag from the floor. "Oof," she said, grabbing the side of the desk with one hand and putting the other on her stomach. "Oh."

Lily jumped from her chair and went to help, picking up her bag for her and helping her stand up straight again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Kate grumbled, rubbing her baby bump. "Just a cramp."

"Ah, Braxton Hicks," Lily said reminiscently with a shudder, "'Practice contractions.' When I got them I thought I was going into early labour and freaked out." She shook her head. "When you get home, take a hot bath. It helps." Kate nodded and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"I will, thanks." She sighed and stretched her back. "Ooh." Lily gave her a sympathetic look before going back to work as Kate left.

XXX

Adriana skipped down the hall excitedly and knocked on Dr. Macy's door. "_Come in!_" she heard his gruff voice say through the wood, and she opened it a crack and poked her head around.

"Is this a bad time?"

Garret looked up from his work and eyed her grinning face warily. "No, I guess not." He put his things aside and motioned for her to come in and sit down. "What's up?"

"Well, you see, next Thursday is take your daughter to work day at the high schools," explained Adriana shyly, taking a seat in the chair across from him, "The kids have to go to work with one of their parents and write a report, or make a video essay about the job."

"You're far too young to have a teenage daughter," Garret half-scoffed. Adriana nodded.

"I know. But my little sister Sienna is fifteen, and our parents are... uh... I have no clue where they are. The point is, I was wondering if you'd object her hanging around on Thursday for her project. It's a major assignment, and she doesn't want to miss out..." Garret sighed.

"As long as she doesn't get in the way, I don't see a problem with that," he said, "But exactly what she sees is your discretion. I can't spare anyone to babysit, so if she walks in on an autopsy and is scarred for life... it's not my fault, got it?" He sounded like he was joking, so Adriana nodded eagerly.

"Yes, sir. I promise she won't be any trouble." She grinned. "Well, not _much._"

XXX

Kate groaned and rubbed her stomach distractedly. "_Kate, are you okay? You look a little green around the gills,_" Nigel said worriedly over the laptop speaker. Kate sighed.

"It's just those stupid Braxton Hicks Lily was telling me about. Practice contractions, my arse." Nigel frowned.

"_Did you tell Aaron about them?_" Kate rolled her eyes.

"You think I'm going to trust Lily's experiences with the safety of my baby? Of course I called Aaron. He said Lily was right and it's perfectly normal at this stage in pregnancy to get Braxton Hicks. They're annoying, but in no way harmful." She sighed. "Stop worrying about me, Nigel, or I might have to strangle you!" He chuckled.

"_Very funny._"

She crossed her arms. "Who said I was joking?" But, alas, he just laughed; he always laughed when she threatened him with bodily harm. Kate was the kind of person who could say she was going to hurt you, but would never practice such things, and he knew that.

Nigel's smile faltered. "_I miss you,_" he said quietly, and Kate frowned.

"You can't miss me, we're talking right now." Nigel rolled his eyes.

"_I miss you, Kate. I miss the way to smell, the way you look when you're sleeping, that cute little noise you make when I'm—_"

"Nigel!"

He smirked. "_Sorry._" His smirk faded. "_The point is, I miss having you around._"

"Because of the way I smell and the 'cute little noises I make'? Gee, _thanks_," she said sarcastically. Nigel shot her the puppy-dog eyes best as he could over the webcam.

"_You know I don't _just_ miss those things,_" he told her, "_I miss everything._" He sipped from a floral teacup and looked thoughtful. "_I miss Erin, too._" Kate's eyes softened as she watched him ponder this.

"Nigel, stop being so sappy and sentimental before you make me cry!" she complained. "You know how hormonal I am now that I'm in my third trimester!" He chuckled, and the speakers crackled, warping the sound.

"_Yes,_" he said with a wink, "_Yes, I do._" Kate made an annoyed sound and rolled her eyes.

"Nigel!" she scolded, "Get your mind out of the gutter."


	30. Chapter 30

_Jordan seems off in this chapter to me. Dunno what I did wrong, but I'm sorry if it's a little weird. I wrote most of this right after eating a big dinner, and I was kind of (very) sleepy. I had the chapter planned out... didn't work out quite the way I wanted it to, but oh well... at least I got the main points across. :)_

_And remember how I promised a happy ending? ...Well, I forgot to mention that there might be a few bumps in the road in order to get there. Oopsie. :P My bad. Anyway, the happy ending is still going to happen!! ...Eventually. Bwa ha ha!_

**Chapter Thirty: Fear**

Kate groaned and she plopped back onto the couch. Jordan looked up from where she was sitting behind her desk. "What's wrong?" she asked with a frown, "She kicking a little too vigorously again? I swear that girl is going to be a karate kid or something." Kate laughed.

"No, I think she's sleeping. It's these stupid Braxton Hicks contractions. It's like a joke. Experiencing contractions before labour even starts. It sucks!" Jordan's frown didn't disappear.

"They... hurt?" she asked, her brow creasing a little in worry, "I thought they just felt like menstrual cramps... annoying, but basically harmless." Kate rolled her eyes.

"Where did you hear _that_?" Kate asked, exasperated. Jordan opened her laptop computer and typed '_Braxton Hicks_' into the Google search bar.

"Kim when she had Luke, maybe? No clue, really. But there's one way to find out..." She had that 'bad gut feeling' tone to her voice, Kate noticed. "Here we are... '_How can I tell the difference between Braxton Hicks and the real thing?_'" She scrolled down the page a little. "_Sometime towards the middle of your pregnancy, you may notice the muscles of your uterus tightening, for anywhere from 30 to 60 seconds. This may happen to you several times an hour, several times a day__ (Cheng et al 2006)__. Not all of us feel these random, usually painless contractions..._ See! '_Usually painless_'!" Kate rolled her eyes.

"It says '_usually,_' Jordan. I'm not usual, remember?" Jordan seemed not to notice her protests.

"_Labour contractions are noticeably longer as well as more regular, frequent, and painful than Braxton Hicks contractions. Also, labour pains are persistent, and will increase in frequency, duration, and intensity as time goes on, while Braxton Hicks contractions remain unpredictable and non-rhythmic__ (Cheng et al 2006)__._ How long have you been having these?"

"About a day, but—"

"Are they getting more frequent?"

"Well, a little, but—"

"Kate!" Jordan exclaimed, cutting off the now thoroughly annoyed ME, "I think you're in labour!"

"I'm not in labour, Jordan, I think I'd know!" Kate protested with another eye-roll. She got up from the couch, putting a hand on her aching lower back. "I'm only thirty weeks along." Jordan didn't look like she heard her.

"Does your back hurt? Where?"

"Jordan—!"

"Because this says that you should consult your doctor if you are less than thirty-seven weeks and are experiencing lower back pain with your Braxton Hicks, as it might be a sign of premature labour!"

"_Jordan—_"

Jordan looked up, eyes wide. "Kate, we've got to get you to your doctor... like, now, man! This is serious!" Kate groaned as Jordan grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the office.

"Jordan, I'm telling you, you're overreacting..."

"Garret!" Jordan exclaimed, waving him over. "I think Kate's gone into labour!"

"I have _not_ gone into—"

"We'd better get her to the hospital. This place really isn't equipped to handle another birth."

"Dr. Macy, I'm not—!"

"I'll take her in my car, it's closest," Jordan said, hurrying her toward the elevator.

"_Jordan_—!"

"Call me as soon as you know anything," Garret said as the metal doors _swooshed_ closed, obscuring them from view as it swiftly carried them down to the garage. He shook his head and returned his attention to his work as though nothing was out of the ordinary. And for their morgue, honestly, what _could_ be out of the ordinary, other than an alien invasion?

Eventually Kate figured out that arguing with her overly protective and very stubborn friend wasn't doing her any good and stopped complaining. The ride to Dr. Fitzgerald's office (Kate insisted they go there instead of the hospital as he was her OB/GYN) didn't take long, but it seemed longer because of the silence. Kate had closed her mouth and didn't open it again until they pulled into the parking lot of the little privately owned business office, even during another Braxton Hicks contraction she had on the ride there.

"Let's get this over with," Kate said as she climbed out of Jordan's car, careful of her stomach. Jordan bounced excitedly back and forth on the balls of her heels as they waited to see the doctor, not saying a word, but looking very anxious. Kate thought it was very un-Jordan-like, but Jordan could be very unpredictable sometimes.

"Switzer," a nurse said, looking down at her chart, "The doctor can see you now." She smiled at Kate and beckoned them into the hallway beyond the waiting room, and into a little room with an examination table and three chairs in it off that. "He'll be here in a moment." Kate nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs, while Jordan paced back and forth.

"Kate, what are you doing here on such short notice?" Aaron asked as he walked in the door, shutting it behind him and looking at her chart in his hand. He noticed Jordan and tucked it under his arm, extending his now free hand toward her for her to shake. "Aaron Fitzgerald. And you are...?"

"Jordan Cavanaugh. I work with Kate," she quickly explained, "I think she might be in labour." Aaron's eyebrows shot up, and Kate shrugged.

"I _told_ her it's only Braxton Hicks, but she's _convinced_ I'm wrong and I've really been having contractions this whole time." Aaron chuckled.

"Hop up on the table and I'll get the Ultrasound machine in here." He opened the door and asked a passing nurse for her to get him one. Jordan helped Kate onto the table, and she lied down, fidgeting as the annoying paper crinkled.

"Here we are," he said as he smiled at the nurse who rolled in the machine, who in turn nodded and left quietly. Aaron pulled it up beside the examination table and pulled out a little bottle of blue gel, then rolled up Kate's t-shirt to expose her stomach. "How are those Braxton Hicks? Still bothering you?"

"Yes," Kate said, making a face as her doctor put the cold gel on her stomach and took out the little wand. "They've become a little more frequent, and tend to happen a couple times an hour." Aaron nodded and began to press on her stomach with the wand, moving it around a little under he got the view he wanted.

He was quiet as he adjusted the colour on the screen, and pressed down harder on her baby bump, trying to get a better look. Kate couldn't see the screen from where she was lying and neither could Jordan, but Aaron had this odd expression on his face that couldn't indicate something _good_.

"What's wrong, Aaron?" asked Kate, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"Well, it's a good thing your friend was so concerned," he said after a moment. "I believe you are begging premature labour." Kate sucked in a breath between her teeth in shock. "We might be able to delay it with medication because your water hasn't broken yet, but not for long, because..." He paused, turning the screen around to face her. She could clearly see the outline of her baby, and a pulsing line around her neck. "She's got a nuchal cord and may be in some distress."

"A what?" questioned Jordan, concerned.

"A nuchal cord is when the umbilical cord becomes wrapped about the fetus's neck. It happens in about thirty per cent of all pregnancies, but usually straightens out before birth." He pointed toward the monitor, his brow creased slightly. "Erin here has become unhappy with how tight the cord has become, and might not be getting as much oxygen as she would like. That's why she's trying to come out early."

"She's... suffocating?" Kate asked, looking in horror at the tiny blip of life on the screen.

"It's not that severe, but essentially... yes." Kate looked like she was going to cry.

"What we're going to do is try and stop the contractions, and hope that it unwraps itself. If it doesn't, and Erin is still trying to get out... we might have to do a c-section."

"No," Kate said automatically. "No way. She's too little. I'm only thirty weeks along! There is no way I'm having her now. None. At. All." She seemed pretty adamant about the fact that she was not having her baby today.

"Kate," Aaron looked at her sympathetically, "If the cord is cutting off her oxygen for too long, we might not have a choice," he explained slowly, patting her hand in a comforting way, "If we don't do a caesarean section when she needs it, we could be risking brain damage or late-term miscarriage." Kate and Jordan both paled considerably.

"I'm going to call Nigel," Jordan said after a moment, "A flight back here will take seven hours..." Kate shook her head.

"No! No, we don't know what's going to happen. We don't need to worry him yet." She sighed and wiped up the blue goo with a paper towel Aaron handed her. "If I need the c-section... we'll tell him then." Aaron looked from one ME to the other.

"Is Nigel out of the country?"

"England," they said in unison, staring each other down.

"If it's going to be a long flight, you'll probably want to call him sooner than later so he can be here for support if..." He bit his lip.

"I don't want to take him away from his dad. He needs the time with him. I can't ask him to give that up just because I might be having the baby earlier than planned."

"Kate..."

"Jordan, go home. I'll be fine, and you have a wedding to plan. Twenty days left, remember?" She sat up and rolled her t-shirt back down. "Am I staying here, or...?"

"No, we'd better transfer you to the General for observation." He looked at her warily. "Kate, you really should call—"

"No!" She shook her head quickly. "No. I can do it by myself. And there's no guarantee on anything yet, so why bother him?"

Aaron sighed. "Alright," he said, "I'll go call the hospital and inform them of the situation and have them prepare for your arrival." He left, taking the ultrasound machine with him.

"Jordan, you can go back to the morgue and tell everyone what's going on if you want, but then you are going to go home and be with Woody. I'll be fine on my own."

"Are you sure...?"

"Yes!" She got down off the table and put her hands on her hips. "Jordan, go _home_." Jordan frowned.

"Kate, Nigel needs—"

"Go!"

They stared at each other, neither willing to budge. Finally Jordan nodded, grunted a "Fine, but I'm coming back!" and left the room, still very worried about her friend. Kate sank down into the nearest chair and tried not to scream. She'd gotten so far, gone so long! She was not going to lose her baby now. Erin would be perfectly fine. They'd observe her and stop the contractions, and the nuchal tube would just work itself out.

She sighed and wiped a tear off her cheek. She gripped the arms of the chair and shook violently with the effort not to start sobbing. Her baby was suffocating, and she couldn't help but feel like it was her fault.


	31. Chapter 31

_Your reviews have led me to update early... I did say I was going to have a happy ending... just not yet! I'm so evil. :) Mwua ha ha ha!_

**Chapter Thirty-One: Back and Forth**

Kate rolled over for the millionth time and pulled the pillow over her head. It'd been several hours, and she was now lying in a hospital bed in a semi-private room at the General (the best they could do on such short notice). Jordan looked up from her book and glared at her.

"Dr. Fitzgerald said to _rest_," she scolded, eying her friend, "Go to sleep!"

"Can you sleep with all that noise?" Kate counted, pointing vaguely in the direction of the other person occupying the room. She was an older lady with greying hair and very, _very _loud snoring behind the curtain that separated them. She didn't add that she was far to stressed over the whole situation to sleep, but assumed that Jordan would know that. Jordan shrugged.

"Just try, okay?"

"I _am_ trying!"

The moment Kate had been put in a room Jordan had returned and been sitting with her ever since. She was determined to be there the whole time, and Kate wasn't really complaining. As much as she wanted to be independent, it was nice to know that her friend cared that much. Well, that, and she could use the company.

"Is Woody okay with you staying?" Jordan shot her a look.

"He's perfectly fine. And he and Lily both said she'd come visit in the morning..." She dog-eared her book and put it down beside her on the floor. "And that means Bug'll be here too. He wanted to call Nigel the second he heard, and it took a look of convincing to get him to restrain himself, so you'd better be happy."

Kate smiled. "Thank you."

"I don't see what the big deal is! You should call him, tell him what's going on, even if you don't want him to drop everything and come home." Kate stifled a laugh with one hand.

"You really don't know him that well, do you? If I called and said there was anything remotely out of the ordinary going on... he'd be on the first flight back before I had time to tell him not to! And even if I did tell him, he wouldn't listen."

Jordan sighed. "I know. I just feel guilty about not telling him." Kate shook her head.

"Don't. I'm the one not telling him. Hopefully I'll still be very much pregnant by the time he comes home in three days. He'll have spent a nice last week with his dad, and everyone will be happy." Jordan frowned.

"You really believe that?" Kate sighed and adjusted her pillow, laying back on it and staring at the white ceiling.

"Nope."

XXX

Early the next morning, Aaron entered Kate's room quietly. Both women were fast sleep; Jordan draped over the fold-up chair in a way that couldn't be comfortable, and Kate on her side in the bed with her arms wrapped around her stomach protectively. He smiled slightly, not wanting to wake them, but knowing her had to.

"Katherine," he said quietly, looking up at the screen that showed the quick blips that were the fetal heart rate. They were still far too fast. "Kate..." Her eyes fluttered and she yawned, letting go of her stomach and using her hands to push herself into a sitting position. She rubbed her eyed and then gave him a once-over. He didn't look happy.

She leaned sideways and gave Jordan a good, hard poke in the shoulder. She jumped and her eyes opened, she quickly righted herself and straightened her rumpled clothing. "Any news?" she asked breathlessly of the doctor, who had a worried crease to his brow.

"No change," he deadpanned, and Kate felt as though a hand was squeezing her heart. "We're going to have to do the c-section. We can't risk it, Kate, I'm sorry." She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears.

"What are Erin's chances?" asked Jordan, eyes looking desperate. She wanted the baby to be healthy almost as much as Kate did. She knew what it meant to her friend to be a mother.

"Right now, she's about three pounds, which is... excellent. After two pounds, the odds increase to fifty per cent... and after that, it increases by the ounce. She's got a good eighty per cent on her side."

"Eighty? Only eighty?" Kate's voice cracked. "What if I don't do the c-section?"

"If you do the c-section now, she has an eight per cent chance, Kate. If you don't do it now, you have a fifty/fifty chance of brain damage or death because of the position of the nuchal cord. Kate, you want to do the surgery. Your odds just decrease if you don't." He saw the look she was supporting and sighed. "The NICU here is one of the better equipped in the state. Kate..."

"Okay. We do it. When?"

"As soon as possible." Kate nodded slowly. "I can schedule you an OR within the hour." She nodded again, her lip shaking. He turned to go, and stopped. "And Kate," he said, turning to look at her again, "Call the father." Jordan was already digging around in her purse for her cell phone.

"Okay," Kate whispered, barely able to use her voice. She'd never been so scared in her life. Not when she was in the plane crash, not when she'd been shot at, never. Because it wasn't only her life on the line, and she'd been pregnant enough times to know that all too well.

Jordan was on her phone, scrolling through the numbers. "Ugh. What's Nigel's cell number?" she asked, biting her lip. "I think Woody accidently deleted it off my phone, _again_. He's technologically inept, I swear!"

Kate shakily took the phone from her and dialled the number, then offered it back as it rang. "You tell him," Jordan said, pushing the phone back towards he friend.

"No, you tell him," argued Kate, "You're the one who wanted to!"

"I'm not gonna tell him!"

"Tell him!"

"No!"

XXX

Nigel grabbed his phone and made to make a quick exit. "I've got to take this," he told Collin politely, knowing that he told everyone back home not to call him on his cell unless it was an emergency.

"Hurry back," his brother said, picking up a breadstick and biting into it. "Our meals'll be here soon." He nodded and hurried off to the men's room, locking the door behind him and flipping open the buzzing device.

"_You tell him!_" "_He's _your_ boyfriend!_" "_You're the one who wanted to tell him!_" "_Somebody has to tell him!_" Nigel smirked slightly as he heard the argument between Jordan and Kate, recognising their voices instantly.

"Will one of you please tell me what's going on?" he said rather loudly, so both could hear him over their bickering. They went silent.

"_Nigel..._" That was Jordan. Apparently she'd lost. "_Kate's gone into premature labour._" Nigel swore his heart stopped for a moment, skipping several beats before starting up again and racing at a treacherous, unnaturally fasst pace.

"What? No, it's too early!"

"_That's why I said 'premature'. They're doing a c-section..._"

"Wait, why? Can't they stop the contractions?"

"_Give me the phone!_" There was a moment of silence in which all he could hear was his heart beating rapidly, then Kate sighed into it. "_Nigel, if I don't have her now, there's less chance she's going to make it. She's got the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and she's not getting enough oxygen._" Her voice cracked, and his speedily beating heart broke for her.

"How long?"

"_We're doing it within the hour. Nigel, I don't want you to come down here if you don't need to—_"

"Well then, what do you suppose I do? Stay here and do nothing?!" he bellowed, forgetting that he was standing in a public restroom only a few feet from the other customers in the restaurant. "I am going to be there as soon as I possibly can, Kate, and there is nothing you can say that will convince me to do otherwise." He flipped the phone closed before he could convince him to do otherwise, as he was sure she probably could.

He unlocked the door and stormed back to their table, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "I've got to go," he said simply to Collin, who was looking at him with a surprised expression. "This'll cover my share." He shoved a few bills into Collin's hand and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to get back to Boston, immediately." Collin could see his brother was upset.

"Why? What happened?"

"My girlfriend's gone into labour," he yelled over his shoulder as he practically ran out the door, waving down the first taxi he saw. "To the airport, and step on it!" The cabbie nodded quickly and took off before Nigel even had his seatbelt on. Thank goodness for reckless cab drivers!


	32. Chapter 32

_I'm highly unsure about this chapter... it took a while because I had to look up all the medical jargon (and I'm not sure if I got stuff wrong... I probably did, btw, I'm not a doctor). So this was built off my (very limited) knowledge of c-sections, and the flight part with Nigel was based off an experience my friend had. :) Sorry, I just really like writing sweet old ladies for some reason. They're so fun!_

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Pressure**

Jordan held Kate's hand as they wheeled her into the OR. They'd already given her the epidural anaesthetic and painkillers galore, but she was still more than a little freaked out. She absolutely _hated_ the idea of surgery, especially because of what she did for a living, and having it done while she was awake? The thought was almost nauseating.

"I can't do this," she whispered again and again. "I can do this." Jordan smoothed back the hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead.

"Shh, yes you can. You can do it. Everything is going to be fine," she told her friend, still holding her hand and walking in stride with the gurney. Before they entered the OR they made Jordan wash her hands and don a mask and gown over her clothes for sanitary purposes, so she had to let go of Kate's hand momentarily.

When she returned, Kate was shaking. "Kate, please just try and relax and lie still," Aaron instructed, his own blue paper mask crinkling as he said it.

Jordan took her hand again and Kate squeezed her hand nervously, all the while reciting a quiet mantra of, "I can do it, I can do it."

"Yes," Jordan encouraged, "You can do it. Just lie still for a few minutes and it'll all be over." She looked— over the separating curtain they had set up so Kate wouldn't be able to see what they were doing— toward Aaron and nodded.

"Kate, you're going to feel a slight pressure as I make the incision, okay? Just relax..." Kate was trying very hard not to hyperventilate. She felt the pressure he was talking about and could see in her mind's eye exactly what he was doing, which made her feel sick. "Relax, Kate, try not to work yourself up, everything is fine..." Kate sighed and held Jordan's hand a little tighter.

"Evans," he addressed one of the nurses assisting, "Watch her blood pressure for me, it's looking a little high."

There was a few minutes of silence in which Jordan peeked over the sheet, then quickly turned away a few times. No matter how many people's insides you've seen, it's different when they are your friend's, and even more so when they are still alive.

"Almost there..." Aaron's eyes scrunched up in concentration. "You're going to feel some more pressure, don't be alarmed..." Kate sucked in a breath and clamped down on Jordan's hand harder.

"Doctor F., her BP is 140/90..." the nurse named Evans told him quietly.

"Get her 10 ccs of acebutolol," he instructed, and the nurse scurried off to get the medication. It was moments later that Aaron said a triumphant, "Got her!" and pulled the tiny baby from Kate.

Erin spluttered, then inhaled a little breath. After the experimental intake of oxygen, the infant opened her mouth and let out an almost cat-like mew that was obviously her idea of a scream. Aaron was handed a towel and wiped her face off, bringing her closer to Kate, who lifted her head to see her. Tiny and pink, with ten fingers and ten toes, she was the most beautiful thing Kate had ever seen.

Kate looked at the tiny wailing baby. "She's beautiful," she laughed, tears in her eyes. One of the nurses cut the umbilical, and Aaron took her over to the sink and gently washed her off, all the while making sure Kate could see what he was doing. Another nurse brought in a little see-through crib-like gurney, and Aaron carefully put Erin down in it.

"She's going to the NICU," he explained to Kate as the nurse propelled her baby out of the OR. "You can see her again once we've sewn you up."

_Beep, beep! Beep, beep! Beep, beep!_

"BP is rising, 150/90," another nurse informed him, and he went back behind the sheet.

"She's bleeding from the uterine incision," he said a little worriedly, "Push another 10 ccs of acebutolol." Evans did what she was told, giving Kate more of the medication into her IV port.

"No change."

"Another 10 ccs."

Kate made a distressed sound and clamped down on Jordan's hand, hard. "Relax, Kate, they know what they're doing..." Kate's eyes widened, then rolled back into her head. "Kate?!"

"She's seizing!" one voice yelled.

"Crash cart!" another one exclaimed.

"Paddles at the ready!" the first voice demanded.

"Someone get _her_ out of here!" That order came from Aaron, and Evans took Jordan by the arm and started pulling her in the direction of the door.

"Kate!" Jordan struggled against Evans' grip on her arms. "Kate! What's going on? Help her!" Several more doctors pushed past her and Evans into the room, one pulling a crash cart behind him.

"Clear!"

Another nurse joined the effort to get Jordan out of the room.

"Clear!"

She was dragged, practically kicking and screaming, out of the OR. When the double doors swung closed and they were in the hallway, Jordan tore the blue paper mask off the mouth and stood stalk still, panting slightly. Sounds from the OR were muffled, but she heard another, "_Clear!_" and a "_We got a pulse!_" and a "_Stop the bleeding!_"

Jordan couldn't take her eyes off the doors. Her heart was beating rapidly, and her mind was racing. The only thing she could think was, _you can do it, Kate, you can do it,_ over and over again.

**Meanwhile, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean...**

Nigel groaned and adjusted his seat to the upright position, even though the flight was only two hours in. He'd managed to add himself to the passenger manifest for the only direct flight from London to Massachusetts with minimal hacking. He hadn't even needed to kick someone else off. He'd just added himself somewhere in the middle and printed out his ticket. He was through customs and on the plane within the hour, and now he was six hours away from seeing his daughter. At least, he hoped.

"Everything will be okay, stop freaking out," he told himself, putting his head in his hands and leaning forward. He'd never been so nervous. He hadn't been able to pay attention to the movie (some romantic comedy he hadn't seen, and hadn't wanted to), and the view outside his window held no shelter for him either. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.

"Shh, sorry son," the older lady who had put her hand on his shoulder said, her brow creased in worry. He stared at her with wide eyes as she sat down next to him (which was not her designated seat). "Are you alright?"

Nigel ran his hands through his hair. "Uh..."

"Come on, tell Grandma Mary what's wrong." Nigel could have laughed. This woman wasn't his grandmother! And he was sure she knew that. Yet he felt very comfortable with her.

"My... wife..." He felt almost embarrassed to tell Mary that he wasn't married to the woman having his child, so he stretched the truth a little. "Has gone into... premature labour." He struggled to get the words out, but when he did, Mary looked sympathetic. "She's only seven months..." he continued in a whisper, and she tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Complications are a given..."

"Don't spout such things, boy; you're just workin' yourself up! Don't worry, dear, everything is going to be fine." For some reason, he believed her.


	33. Chapter 33

_I'm aware it took me fifteen days to update. Ugh, I've rewritten this chapter about a dozen times, and I just can't seem to get it quite right! This is as good as it's getting... still not perfect, but better than the crap I've been writing for the past two weeks. Darn you, writer's block! Thank you all so very much for being patient, I'll try to be more punctual with updates again as soon as I find my lost muse. _

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Breathing**

Nigel stared at her through the Plexiglass window in her hospital room, watching as her chest rose and fell with every breath. She looked so fragile. He'd never seen her so vulnerable, and wasn't sure he ever wanted to again. She was one of the strongest people he knew, and it almost felt wrong to see her in such a state.

A nurse had informed him when he asked (more like demanded) to see her that she had coded during the c-section. _Coded_. _His_ heart had nearly stopped when she said that. Kate, his Kate, could have... he shivered. _No use thinking about 'what if's_, he told himself, straightening his back and holding his head a little higher, _it didn't happen._

Jordan was curled up in a ball on a fold-up chair beside Kate's bed when he entered the room. Her dark curls had fallen into her face, and one of them moved with the current of air she created as she breathed in and out. The sound of him closing the door softly behind him was enough to wake her, and she looked up at him the bleary eyes for a moment before getting up and throwing her arms around him neck in a friendly hug.

"She hasn't woken up yet," she whispered, letting go of him and sinking back into her seat. "They had to give her a sedative for the second half of the procedure because of a complication..." She paused, then wrapped her arms around herself. "It should be wearing off any time now."

Nigel swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded shakily. He trembled slightly as he turned his gaze on his sleeping lover, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead, and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "How's Erin?" he asked Jordan, who was in the middle of stretching her arms behind her back to rid her tired muscles of the stiffness from falling asleep in an awkward position.

"She's in the NICU, but she's stable, and breathing on her own." Nigel studied her face for any sign of anxiety, and found lots. Her eyes had dark circles under them, her mouth was an uneasy half-frown and her eyebrows were pushed together in the middle.

"Weight?"

"Three pounds even. Dr. Fitzgerald says we're lucky— she's actually a little overweight for her gestational age." She looked towards her friend and sighed. "Go see Erin. I'll stay with Kate and make sure to get a nurse come get you if she wakes up."

Nigel was torn. He wanted to see his daughter— no, he _craved_ it— but he already felt guilty for not being here when Kate went into labour, and to leave her when he was here... it felt wrong.

"Go," Jordan urged, seeing the look of frustration on his face, "I swear, she'll probably be out for another couple hours... just go see her." Nigel closed his eyes and nodded in defeat.

"Okay, love, but I'll be back in a few minutes, and if she wakes, I better know about it." Jordan nodded and yawned, settling back into her chair.

"I promise."

As Nigel strode purposefully down the hall toward the NICU, he began to feel uneasy again. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting Jordan to burst out of the white door to Kate's room and yell him back, telling him she'd woken up and she was furious for him not being there. She never did. He pushed open the double doors to the next wing of the hospital, taking one last look behind him— Jordan didn't suddenly reappear.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the first nurse he could find. "I'm looking for Erin Grace Townsend," he explained, "I'm her... father, and I was told she was here?"

The nurse looked sympathetic. "I'm Anna, come along, I'll help you find her." Nigel fidgeted anxiously as the nurse went through a rack on manila folders. After she picked up the last one and flipped open the cover, she frowned.

"You said 'Townsend,' right?" He nodded quickly.

"Are you sure she's not with her mother? The NICU doesn't seem to have your daughter's record..." Nigel paled. Jordan said she was here. If she _wasn't _here...

"She _has_to be here," he practically begged the nurse. "Can you check under Kate Switzer, her mother's name? Or, or..." Anna flipped back a few files and pulled another one out.

"Baby girl, Switzer?" She held up the folder so he could read the name. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He put a hand on his chest as though that would help steady his racing heart.

"_Yes._ Yes. Someone just mislabelled her. She's a Townsend, alright. Can I see her? Please?" The nurse opened Erin's file and quickly read the first few lines.

"Of course. Right this way." She lead him to a room farther down the hall, and into a ward with four crib-like hospital beds in it. Erin was in the furthermost bed on the left, and when Nigel saw her his heart melted.

Little and pink, she had her lips pursed in a way that reminded him of Kate. Her eyes were closed, so he assumed she was asleep, and her chest rose and fell quickly. He barely noticed the IV in her arm or the little tube around her head putting oxygen in her nose. He silently looked at the nurse, his eyes asking her if he could hold his baby girl. She nodded, answering his wordless inquiry.

Slowly, and carefully, Nigel put a hand under her head and the other under her back and lifted Erin Grace into his arms. She didn't wake up, though she cuddled up to him as he held her to his chest.

"Hi," he breathed, wanting her to know his voice, but not wanting to wake her from her peaceful slumber. He bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on the warm skin of her forehead, holding her face close to his. "I love you."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Breathing**

"So I got a dress," Jordan announced, practically dancing through the door into Woody's and her apartment. He was sitting on their sofa watching Sunday morning cartoons, and looked up from his bowl of Cheerios with an odd expression that was somewhere between confusion and happiness when she entered.

"Um... yay?"

She held up a white garment bag that was almost taller than she was by the protruding clothes' hanger. "Nigel's gonna kill me for doing it without him... but it's _perfect_." Woody put his bowl down on the coffee table and switched off the television.

"Explanation, please?" Jordan sighed and rolled her eyes, kicked off her shoes and headed to the bedroom to hang up her purchase in their closet.

"I was at the hospital with Kate," Jordan started in a half-yell so he could hear her from the living room, hanging the dress carefully in the back of the closet. She turned around and just about walked into her fiancé, who was standing right behind her. "No peaking."

"Would dream of it. Scout's honour." He did the hand sign as if to validate that, and Jordan rolled her eyes again before continuing.

"She's doing better, by the way. And Erin's as good as we can hope for at this point, breathing on her own and drinking small amounts at a time." She paused, then pushed past him and walked back into the living room with him trailing slightly behind her. "Nigel flew back from England, like Kate said he would. He saw Erin then relieved me of my friend-sitting duties." She frowned at Woody's raised eyebrow. "Not that I minded sitting with her, not at all! I just honestly can't stand hospitals at the moment. Too many painful memories."

Woody nodded and picked up his bowl off the coffee table and shovelled a large spoonful of now-soggy cereal into his mouth. Jordan flopped down onto the couch beside him and resumed her story.

"I went for a walk to clear my head— I was planning to go back to the hospital right afterward, I swear, but I saw this little bridal store, and in the window was the _perfect _dress." She sighed happily. "The store was just opening for the morning, and you know me, I couldn't wait to have Nige there with me when I went to try it on. And it fits me like a glove! It feels as though it was made for me. He's still going to kill me for doing it without him, but I really couldn't resist. Plus Kate and he'll be busy with baby stuff now, so he might not have time to do it later, anyway."

Woody drank the milk left over from his breakfast from the side of the bowl while nodding, and a trickle of the now off-white liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Jordan wiped it off with the back of her hand and Woody grinned.

"You're being rather quiet this morning. What's the deal?" He shrugged.

"Voice hurts a little." Jordan frowned, noticing for the first time since she'd gotten home how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Open up," she commanded, and he did as he was told, obediently saying 'ah'. She peered down his throat and grimaced and he breathed on her face.

"You haven't brushed your teeth yet."

"I just woke up an hour ago!"

Jordan snickered, then glared at him almost seriously, as if to warn him not to breathe on her. She took a closer look at his tonsils while he obediently breathed through his nose. "Your throat looks a little inflamed. Nothing some chicken noodle soup and a couple days without straining your vocal cords won't fix right up." Woody closed his mouth and got up to put his bowl in the sink.

"I could have told you _that_."

XXX

Kate slowly opened her eyes. The usual noise of the hospital drifted to her ears, and she could see Nigel sitting not half a foot away, his eyes closed. He had his hands clasped together in front of him, almost as though in prayer, and hand his chin resting on those hands. He looked exhausted.

She watched him for a moment, then attempted to shift into a more comfortable position than laying on her back. She winced— her stomach ached. She put a hand on it and felt tears spring to her eyes; not from the pain, but because she could no longer feel the little flutter of life inside her. A three-pound baby was no longer sitting on her bladder, and she felt slightly lost without that feeling.

Nigel opened his eyes, sensing her movement. "Kate." He said her name like a statement. "You're awake." She nodded slightly, noting that his voice was rough in the way it went when he was holding in his emotions. But the sadness in his eyes could not be covered up so easily.

"Where is she?" Kate managed to croak, and Nigel took a deep breath before answering. That was all the answer she needed to confirm her worst nightmare, though, and the tears that had threatened to fall did just that, running down her pale cheeks and gathering in the corners of her mouth.

"No, no!" Nigel said quickly, brushing away her tears, "She's breathing Kate. She's breathing all by herself. Shh, don't cry." A sob escaped her anyway, and Nigel continued to wipe away the onslaught of tears. "She's in the NICU."

"N-not the morgue?" She sounded like a kicked puppy, and Nigel almost started crying himself.

"Not the morgue. She's breathing Kate. Erin is breathing. She's beautiful, she looks just like you..." He kissed her forehead lovingly and leaned his own forehead against hers. "She's breathing."

"Thank God," Kate murmured, closing her eyes and enjoying the closeness. Her eyes flew open. "I want to see her." Nigel nodded. "I want to see her _now_." He chuckled.

"That's my girl."

Nigel got up and went to find a doctor. Not ten minutes later Kate had convinced (more like intimidated) the doctor into letting her get into a wheelchair and go up the floor to the NICU, and five minutes after that she was staring at a little bundle in a pink blanket, counting fingers and toes just like Nigel had a few hours earlier.

Nigel watched Kate's face intently as she held their little sleeping beauty. He eyes were sparkling, and her smile was gigantic. She was mumbling words of affection to Erin, who, to the best of his knowledge, was still fast asleep.

Kate looked up from her daughter's face and smiled. "She looks so much like you." Nigel laughed.

"She doesn't have my nose, thank goodness." Kate frowned.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with your nose," she protested. She looked at her daughter again. "And you can't really tell yet. She could develop your family's British nose."

"Let's hope not."


	35. Chapter 35

_Sorry about the slow updates, guys. I'm trying, but I think I've got my muse back, so this is a little longer than the last few. Enjoy!_

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Time**

Jordan gently lifted the tiny infant, surprised at how light she was. "She looks so much like you, Nige," she commented with a smirk. "Except she doesn't have your nose..." Nigel grinned.

"Like I said, thank Goodness for that." He watched as his best friend held his daughter, a content smile on his face. "I want to see it before the wedding, by the way; but if this dress is as magnificent as you make it out to be, I'm sure we can work around it..." Jordan smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, it's beautiful Nigel. You're gonna love it, man. Simple and elegant..." She sighed, looking down at Erin as she rocked her slowly back and forth. "Now all we have to do is find bridesmaid dresses for Lily and Kate."

Kate groaned. "Please let me help pick them out, Jordan, the last time I had to be a bridesmaid I was stuck in this stifling lacy pink dress—" She let her head fall back onto her pillow. "It was _awful_!"

"Of course. I'm going to need your input on a lot of things. The wedding is only seventeen days away, and we are nowhere near ready!"

Erin gave a kitten-like mew, and Jordan immediately handed her back to her mother. "You'll be fine," Kate commented, shamelessly moving her hospital gown aside to feed her newborn baby. "Just relax for half a second, and you'll realise that it's _not_ going to be perfect, and it doesn't have to be."

"I want _our_ wedding to be perfect," Nigel said with a huff of annoyance, and both women raised their eyebrows at him. "Well, you know, I mean... eventually." Kate rolled her eyes.

She had adapted to motherhood well. It had been only a little over twenty-four hours after her c-section, and she was already falling into a routine. Erin was small, but she was healthier than the doctor's expected, being able to be breastfed on a regular schedule and breathing fully on her own.

"Woody wants _everything_ to be perfect, so it's going to _be_ perfect, if it's the last thing I do!" Jordan vowed, standing up rather ungracefully.

"You go ahead and try, love," Nigel murmured, looking down at Erin, who had fallen asleep after her afternoon meal.

XXX

Three days later, Woody watched as Bug took Maddie's hands and pulled her into a standing position for the fourth time that hour.

They were waiting in the break room, Woody for Jordan and Bug for Lily, as their girlfriends 'quickly' finished their work. The morgue was understaffed, what with Kate (and Nigel, most of the time) away with the new baby and Adriana in California for her brother's wedding. It seemed like there was always more work to be done, and the remaining employees were already sick of the tiresome routine, trying to keep the place running smoothly. They almost never got off on time.

That particular night, Woody was planning on taking Jordan out to dinner; Bug was waiting to drive Lily home because he had the car, and had already picked up their little girl.

Maddie wobbled on unstable chubby legs for a moment after Bug let go of her hands, but flopped back to the ground onto her diaper-padded bottom, just as she had the last few times. Bug sighed.

"I've almost got her walking, but she just doesn't want to seem to do it," he complained, scooping up the toddler and holding her at face-level. "Don't you want to walk for Daddy, Madeleine?"

She giggled. "Nooo," she said, her voice sounding almost sarcastic, if that was possible. "Dada!" She grabbed his nose and he sighed again.

"I'm done!" Lily announced, strolling into the room and spinning in a happy little circle. "I am completely, totally, utterly _done_! I never realised how much paperwork Kate does in a day until suddenly I had to do it. I have no idea how she _survives_, handling that mountain every evening!" Bug handed Lily their little girl as the four of them excited the break room together.

As the little family headed off towards the elevator, Woody raised his hand in farewell and gave another small sigh. He glanced longingly at the door to Jordan's office down the hall, but perked up as it opened to reveal his fiancée, pulling on her coat.

"I'm finished, now. Where are we going again?" she asked almost breathlessly. She'd just had a wonderful in-depth conversation with her brother about the state of the world (he could be such a downer sometimes!), but had to cut it short because of the dinner plans Woody had made.

Woody grinned his famous farm-boy grin and showed off his dimples. "_Le Château __Maisonette_," he said with a great, regal flourish of his arms, "You're going to love it. My brother went and said it was great." He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips, and she laughed gently, tugging her hand away.

"Wonderful," she agreed, albeit with a rather sarcastic tone to her voice, "That means I need to _change_."

Woody looked at her attire with a raised eyebrow. What she was wearing was perfectly acceptable to go out to dinner in; a simple black pencil skirt and a wine-coloured button-down shirt. It was more formal than she usually wore to work, but she had forgotten it was her week to do the laundry, and ran out of clean jeans and t-shirts.

"No you don't. You look beautiful." He extended his arm in a gentlemanly manner. "Shall we?"

Jordan chuckled again, but took his arm anyway. "Sure. Why not?"

They never made it onto the elevator. "Dr. Cavanaugh! _Wait_!" Emmy frantically scrambled around the desk just as the elevator doors opened to admit them. "Line two is for you. It's _urgent_."

Jordan raised one eyebrow suspiciously. 'Urgent'? What could be so important? Her mind automatically flashed to James, even though she'd spoken to him less than ten minutes before. With her brother, it could be anything.

She looked at Woody apologetically. "I—"

"Take it," he cut her off, leading her by the arm to the front desk, where Emmy was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her heels. "It could be serious."

Jordan smiled gratefully at his understanding and quickly picked up the phone, pressing the 2. She was acutely aware that Woody was watching her, and would hear the whole conversation. She silently prayed James wasn't in too much trouble, so she they wouldn't have to break her cover.

"Cavanaugh."

"_Jordan! It's me, Adriana Rodriguez. Listen, I know you're getting off work now—_"

"Aren't you in California for your brother's wedding?" Jordan asked, rather startled. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't her pretty blonde co-worker's panicked voice.

"_Yes. I'm sorry if I'm keeping you, but..._" Her voice faltered and cracked. She sniffled softly, trying to regain her voice. She sounded like she was crying. "_There's... there's been a... murder... and I..._" Her voice grew quieter. "_I didn't know who else to call._" Jordan felt fear creep into her stomach. A murder at Carlos Rodriguez's wedding? The wedding service should have been well underway, if not almost finished, by now. Jordan bit her lip worriedly, hoping upon hope that it wasn't Adriana's brother who had been killed.

"A murder?" She glanced at Woody, who looked at her quizzically. "Who's the victim?"

"_Christ Michaels... sorry, no. Chris Rodriguez, I suppose. He's my... _was_ my brother-in-law, officially as of an hour ago._" Jordan swore silently.

"The groom." Adriana sniffled.

"_They won't let me do the autopsy, because of my conflict of interest. But they said we could request someone else to do it. It's our right over here. Carlos doesn't... doesn't want a _stranger_ cutting open his husband, so we were wondering... _hoping_, really..._" She paused for several seconds. "_Would you be willing to fly down here by tomorrow?_"

"I... you're asking _me_?"

"_Yes._" Adriana sounded puzzled. "_You're the best medical examiner I know, and..._" She paused again. "_My friend._" That did it.

"I'll be there."

"_Thank you, Jordan. You have no idea what that means to me— to _us_._"

"I take it we're cancelling dinner?" Woody said, sounding slightly put-out. Jordan gave him a sad looked.

"I'm sorry, Woody, but this is important." He nodded.

"It's okay. ...Who died this time?"

"A groom at the wedding Adriana went to. Her brother's wedding." Jordan started to walk back towards her office slowly, with Woody right beside her. "So... you up for another trip to LA?"


End file.
